Evil Angel
by secretskept
Summary: AU. L was an Angel of Death, and it was his duty to take those whose lives had come to their end. Light was the one human that could see him.
1. Put me to sleep, Evil Angel

**Evil Angel**

There were only a few times that L had hesitated in his duty. There were only a few times that he had paused, his hand held mere inches away from touching the unknowing person before him. But he'd always gone through with it in the end. In the end, he had always closed the gap between them; his cold skin brushing theirs for the briefest moment before he pulled away, watching their body sag and their eyes slowly lose the last bit of life that had been shining in them.

He did not regret any of it. L did his duty without questions or second guesses. He knew what he was made for. His purpose: to take those whose time had come.

His empty chest and his cold heart did not feel a thing. Even when he was called to the hospital where a mother was giving birth, her body fighting to survive, he did not even flinch as he brushed his fingers along her arm. Her breath hitched, and his black eyes watched dully as her heavy breathing was replaced with the sound of fierce crying.

Life in exchange for death.

He turned away before he could catch the husband's reaction, as the hand he was holding loosened its grip and fell lifelessly to the bed. L left before he could hear the anguished cries of a man who had lost his love, of a man left with a living and growing reminder of how she had died.

If he allowed himself to think about things, or if he allowed himself to stay and see what his purpose did to those that were left behind, L wasn't so sure that he would be able to go on as he did. He had a purpose, and he could not stray from it.

It was a lonely life.

L had no friends; he did not walk around with any other Angels of Death. For what reason would he? He knew from personal experience everything that they saw and did. There would be no interesting conversations for Death, only a purpose.

During the times that there was no pull in his stomach, no calling to go somewhere and end a life, L would sit on a park bench and watch all the oblivious humans go on with their lives. He would watch them walk, eat, talk, laugh, and breathe, but they could not see him.

He was sitting, naked, on the extreme edge of the bench when a sharply dressed woman sat down beside him, completely unaware that everything would end for her if he would simply reach over and touch her. She would drink her coffee, cross her legs, and look out at the things around her, never even knowing that Death was there.

L could watch people for hours. He was fascinated by the way they lived, and the moments that his thoughts were allowed to travel to _what if_, he wondered if he could ever have survived as a human being.

He wondered at the bonds that grew between two people. He tried to imagine what life would be like if it weren't so lonely. He didn't know and couldn't comprehend what it would be like to share everything with another being, to always have someone on his mind, or to always want to be at their side. He couldn't understand it.

With a glance to the side, L spotted the familiar sight of black wings folded against the back of another being of death, and then another… and another. He knew then, with everything fighting against them, he wouldn't have been able to live for long as a human.

Standing quickly, powerless to resist the call that was pulling him away, L stretched out his own pair of strong, black wings, unable to imagine living without them.

* * *

The first time L had hesitated in his duty was when he was called to an elderly woman's house.

He appeared in one of the bedrooms, his feet carrying him towards the bed where the woman was lying with fever before his mind had even caught up with him; however, just before his hand touched her wrinkled skin, he noticed a brunet boy sleeping in the chair on the opposite side of the bed. The boy had pulled the chair close, his body was bent forward so that his head rested on the mattress, and his fingers were lightly curled around the woman's wrist.

Her grandson, L knew without actually _knowing_.

He had no connection to the boy; he had never seen him before, and yet his hand still froze in the air just above the woman's forehead with his index finger extended towards her. The boy's brown hair was greasy, as if he had forgone showers in favor of staying at the woman's side, and in L's empty chest, he felt a slight twinge of pain.

The hole that was left when a loved one was taken wasn't something that L was completely ignorant of. He didn't witness the pain firsthand, but the cries of those left behind forever echoed in his mind. He knew that it _always_ hurt.

Shaking his head softly, L looked away and pressed the tip of his finger between the woman's eyes, watching with an empty gaze as her chest slowly stopped moving.

Killing for his entire existence wasn't what had turned him into the empty shell that he was, it was what happened after.

The boy stirred, as if his unconscious mind knew that something had changed, and he panicked the moment that he realized that his dear relative was no longer with him.

L left even before he could hear the boy's pained cries.

There was a moment, however, that would follow L for years after that day – the boy's eyes, before turning to his grandmother, had stopped on Death. Though he knew it was impossible, L felt that the boy had seen him in that brief moment.

* * *

The second time that L had paused before touching a human was when he'd appeared at the side of a busy highway, black eyes scanning quickly over the wreckage before him. Cars upon cars were piled up, fires slowly burning away at the engines, and people's screams were filling the chilly winter air.

He made his way through five cars, laying his palm on the shoulders of the people lying helplessly inside of their smashed vehicles. He moved quickly, walking barefoot and without flinching over the shattered glass as he bent next to an upside down car, looking at a brown head of hair with only the barest of recognition.

It was _the_ Boy.

The one that he had thought about even after he'd left the elder woman's house. The one whose sleepy face had somehow managed to stay in his mind's eye. The one who, the very few times L had ever dreamed, haunted him.

Instead of touching him, L straightened. He glanced around the wreckage, finally seeing the other Angels of Death making their way through the destroyed cars. He looked down one more time at the young boy lying unconscious in the car.

He couldn't have been more than ten years old, and already Death had touched his life in the cruelest of ways. Already L had taken away someone so dear to him, and he was being asked to end the boy's own life as well.

Turning away from the boy, L noticed a pair of black wings spreading widely out from the other side of the vehicle, and he watched as Death touched the bloodied forehead of the woman who was no doubt the boy's mother. The angel straightened again, his body stretching bare before him, blank eyes meeting L's for a moment before he turned and walked away, unconcerned with anything that wasn't his own purpose.

L wasn't sure how long he stood there; he wasn't sure how long he looked down at the young boy and fought with himself. He could feel the pull, he could feel the urge to touch the smooth skin of the brunet's arm, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

His wings fluttered, the bases of them stinging with pain.

Death wasn't supposed to allow a life to escape it, but L couldn't bring himself to take that boy away from the world.

Brow furrowing in confusion, L turned, firmly ignoring the pain radiating from his wings and walking away. In the blink of an eye, he was gone to the next place that the calling took him.

He had never planned to see the boy again, and he had no intention of failing in his duty after that day. He hadn't expected to see the boy at the hospital the next day, though he really shouldn't have been surprised.

L's true business was in the room across the hall, and he finished his work quickly before making his way into the hallway. He stopped outside the boy's room, his attention firmly caught after catching sight of him through the opened door when he'd first arrived. He gazed in through the small glass window on the door, losing track of time and just observing. He could see the boy's chest moving, he could hear the steady beeping of the machine next to the bed, and the air was still tinged with the smell of blood even though the boy would certainly live.

The boy would live, L knew. He would live because the Angel of Death that was supposed to have killed him… couldn't do it.

* * *

L waited on the steps of the hospital. He had lost track of time, though he knew it couldn't have been that long. He watched the sunset that evening, and he stayed until he saw it rise once more.

People came and went, some walking by with fast strides, while others lingered. Some took a deep, refreshing breath when they exited the front doors, and others would pat down their pockets in search of their cigarettes, lighting them quickly and finding their relief as the smoke filled their lungs.

He sat there throughout the cold night, curling his wings around his body even though he could not actually feel the cold air against his skin. He stared at the black feathers in front of himself, tracing the veins of them with his eyes. His wings were his lifeline, and his purpose was carried in their cartilage, muscle, and their softness.

His thoughts betrayed him, floating off to a different reality where he didn't have a purpose, to where his back was smooth and unblemished. Would he have been able to find a reason to live without something telling him when he was needed, where he was needed, or what to do?

Knowing such thoughts were dangerous, he pushed them aside and thought about darkness, death, and loneliness.

On the second day, L saw a man making his way to the hospital, and he knew that the man was connected to the brunet boy that had mysteriously captured the interest of Death. Standing on numb legs, L followed the man to the boy's room and slid through the door behind him before it could fall closed.

"Light," the man whispered, moving to the side of the bed and taking the boy's limp hand into his own.

The brunet– Light– groaned, his face scrunching in pain as he slowly awoke. There was a large cut along one side of his forehead, his bottom lip was swollen, and a dark bruise had bloomed on his jawline. L knew, from listening to the doctors, that underneath the blankets covering his small body, Light's ribs were broken and wrapped tightly. He knew that the boy's right arm had been broken and was now in a cast.

Even though L had seen thousands upon thousands of people meet their end, he found his chest aching at the simple sight of this boy in pain for a reason he could not explain. How could an empty chest feel anything?

Caramel eyes caught his attention then, pulling L out of his confusing self-examination and keeping his mind in reality.

"Who is that?" Light asked, his voice raspy and dry.

The man – Light's dad, L guessed – turned and looked in his direction, but his eyes remained unfocused and his gaze looked through him.

L, even though he didn't have a beating heart, felt as though he was having a heart attack.

Light could _see him_.

The man looked back at his son with confusion clearly marking his features, squeezing Light's hand in his own and using the other to smooth down the brunet's mussed hair. "There's no one there, Light," he answered, his voice calm and gentle. "Your head has a nasty bump. You just need some more rest."

"It's an angel, dad," Light said, his lips tilting up in a small smile. His eyes started to flutter closed. "I can see his wings."

L left the hospital then, his mind reeling in wonder.

* * *

He knew he shouldn't have kept an eye on him. He knew that it could be dangerous to get close to a human. Especially one that was under his wings - one that _he_ was meant to have killed.

L stayed in the shadows always, watching from afar as the young boy grew. He watched as friends came and went, and he watched as the boy laughed with the joys of life, and cried with the sorrows. He only dared to get close when Light was asleep, too frightened about what could happen between them if Light knew he was there.

Frightened by what could happen if Light accidentally got too close.

He would sit himself on the windowsill long after Light shut off his bedside lamp, stretching out one leg and bending the other to rest his arm upon. He folded his wings to his back and leaned his head against the windowpane, keeping his eyes on the body sprawled out across the mattress.

The nights all blurred together, the darkness merging into one continuous stream that he couldn't tell apart by time. He counted the seconds until the sun would rise, and he would be gone long before Light's alarm went off.

It was one of those nights that things once again shifted between them. Light had just turned twelve a few days before, and he was snuggled deeply into his bed sheets that night after everyone had left. His father had thrown him a birthday party, inviting a few of the students from school even though Light didn't get along with any of them.

There was nothing special about it, no change in the air that forced L to step closer that night than he had ever previously done, watching with fascination as the boy's chest rose and fell with his deep, relaxed breaths. Seeing life before his eyes would forever remain a mystery to L, just as the brunet boy himself would.

His cheek was mushed up and his mouth was hanging open, breathing loudly and breaking the otherwise complete silence and stillness of the room. His neck was titled back just enough for the skin covering his arteries to be pulled taut, and L could see the gentle pulses of his heartbeat.

Holding a hand to his own neck, L searched for a matching beat, but his fingers only touched stillness.

So lost in his thoughts, L didn't notice the boy stirring. He didn't see the brunet roll onto his back and blink away the sleep from his eyes. He didn't see them gradually grow wide with alarm as he stared up at him.

He almost didn't react fast enough when the boy reached out to touch him.

His wings spread out wide and fluttered with his surprise as L jumped back, putting much needed space between his body and the boy's questing hand. He was sure his normally blank eyes were frantic and shining with fear as he stared down at Light.

The boy had pushed himself up to his elbows, and his bed covers had fallen to reveal his bare chest. His brown eyes were filled with confusion, curiosity, and nervousness.

"Who are you?" he whispered into the dark silence surrounding them.

The base of L's wings started to ache, as they often did when Light was near, and he gave the boy one last, long look before disappearing.

He knew it was for the best, but he couldn't stay away forever. He returned the next night, unable to resist the temptation that Light embodied.

Lingering just outside of Light's window, he peered over the edge and stared at the boy studying at his desk. He crouched there for an hour, too frightened to move closer, but far too intrigued to leave again.

After two hours he had to stretch his wings out, the tendons in them aching even more than his knees were from the awkward and cramped position he'd held himself in.

In the darkened monitor of the computer sitting on the desk, Light saw his reflection and was quick to turn around, a gasp escaping him.

L snapped his wings back against himself in surprise when their eyes met. He straightened his legs and back until he was at his full height, knowing that there was no other option.

It felt as though each individual feather was tingling when Light stood and walked over to the window, undoing the latch and pushing up the bottom frame. It was unnecessary, but L decided to crawl through the gap just because he couldn't resist the begging look on Light's face.

"My dad told me that you aren't real," Light said half an hour later. He'd gone back to his desk to work, though L knew he had been dying to do anything but.

He stood in his usual corner, keeping to the shadows and watching with cautious eyes as the boy scribbled across his notebook. L stayed silent, like always.

The brunet sighed, not looking away from his homework though L knew he wanted to. "He told me that I needed to stop talking to my _imaginary friends_," he whispered. "Otherwise I have to go see a doctor." Light slowly came to a stop in his writing and tossed his pencil aside. He pulled his hands into his lap, leaning back in his seat with his head hanging down.

L continued watching him, his head tilted to the side and his eyes softening as a single tear slowly rolled down the brunet's cheek.

"My life is about to change completely, and it's entirely your fault."

Had he been able to speak, L may have explained how Light was even able to have a life because of him and his inability to fulfill his own duty. He may have told him that the reason he kept out of Light's reach was because of his cursed skin. He may have told Light how often he was on his mind, how the calling had stopped pulling him away so often over the last few weeks.

_L's _own existence was already changing, and he was sure it was because of his relationship with Light.

But he couldn't speak. He didn't know how to call the words forth. He would open his mouth, but nothing but air would come out. He'd spent so long in silence that forming the words and how to manipulate the air in his throat had been forgotten.

Light noticed, and L wondered at the ability the boy seemed to have learned: reading his thoughts even when L was sure his expression was a blank slate.

"I told him that I saw you wandering nearby on the way to the store a few days ago, and he asked me what you looked like." L held his breath, sure of what Light's answer had been. "I told him you looked like an angel." The brunet let out a gruff laugh, shaking his head as if he was disappointed with himself. "He told me that I had "seen you" at the hospital after the accident, and that he had thought it was just a side-effect of hitting my head."

He turned his head toward L then, their eyes locking.

Had L needed to breathe, his breath would have frozen in his chest.

"I told him that you would stand in the corner of my bedroom, or by the window if you thought I was asleep, and after calming him down and making him understand that you weren't some pedophile or something… he realized that only _I_ could see you." He shook his head again. "You're a figment of my imagination, he said. I need to stop pretending that an angel is looking out for me."

L looked away, firmly ignoring that the pain in his wings had transferred to the spot where his heart would be.

"Why is it so bad to imagine that someone cares about me?" Light whispered then, and his voice was so pained that L felt like he'd just been stabbed. Light's pain was his own, and _it always hurt_.

* * *

"I'm not allowed to touch you?" Light asked one night as he laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling.

L turned his head towards him from his seat on the windowsill. He'd allowed himself to get more comfortable over the years, and by the time Light had turned fourteen, L had become relaxed enough to lay out on the boy's bed when he was busy with homework.

He knew Light enjoyed those evenings the most, as he would spend far longer on his work than he would otherwise. L wasn't blind to the wandering looks or the sidelong glances, and he wondered often what was truly on the teenager's mind.

L shrugged in response to his earlier question, scratching a nail along his bare kneecap.

"You don't ever wear clothes," he said next, voice light with teasing. L merely shrugged once more.

Clothes weren't necessary when no one could see you anyways, and those who could were of your own kind and had no interest. He wondered then if his nakedness had ever bothered Light, as the boy hadn't ever commented on it before.

"My dad would have a fit if he knew that." Light laughed. "He'd be convinced that I'd imagined up a mute pedophile with black wings."

L, unknowingly, smiled at that, easily able to picture how Light's short tempered father would react to that bit of information.

Light's laughter slowly faded, and his expression became solemn as the seconds passed. "I may be insane," he said, "but you are my best friend."

L knew then that he had made a huge mistake.

Death was no one's best friend.

L was sure things wouldn't be as they were if Light had known what he'd done. If he'd known that it was L himself that had taken away his loved ones. If he'd known that it was L's kin that had taken away his own mother.

Fighting with himself, L's attention was a long ways away from the small room that his body was holed up in, and he didn't notice the brunet moving, he didn't notice Light coming to stand at his side until the unfamiliar feeling of a hand coming to rest on his shoulder brought him back.

Light's hand on… his shoulder. Light was touching him.

Death was dealt with a single touch, and L had made a huge mistake.


	2. Open your wings, Evil Angel

**two**

L did not believe in luck. He did not believe that Light was able to walk away from him that day alive simply because something had coincidentally saved him. No, L knew that there were things that even he could not see or understand, and he knew that the reason Light was still alive and well was because he had been allowed to survive that moment of contact.

The touch of Death was the end for a human, L knew that very well. Yet there Light stood, his chest rising and falling quickly as he stared in surprise at L. Light's hand was only on his skin for a short second, but after L quickly realized what was happening, he disappeared from his perch only to reappear across the room.

The boy let out a surprised gasp when his hand fell through thin air, and he whipped around to stare wide eyed at L. He was confused, that was clear. His eyes were filled with questions, and his body was tense and ready to move, as if he thought he could react quickly enough to stop L from escaping if the angel tried.

"What's wrong?" Light whispered, his voice no louder than a sigh. "What are you afraid of?"

L remained silent, fists clenching at his sides as he resisted the temptation to touch, to see if it was really true. He stopped, though, forcing himself to remain still and far away from the boy.

When Light realized that he wouldn't get an answer, he sighed. His body slumped as he shuffled over to his bed and threw himself onto it, landing on his stomach with a groan. "I wish that you could speak," he said, the words muffled by the pillow he'd pressed his face into. "I wish that you could tell me what you are, who you are, why you're here…"

L's wings started to burn at the bases, far more intensely than they had ever done before. He winced but otherwise remained unmoved.

"You spoke a second ago," Light mumbled, and L had to repeat the words to himself to make sure he'd heard the boy correctly. "When I touched you, you screamed 'no'".

L thought back to that terrifying moment, trying to remember it how Light was describing, but all he could think about was the bone chilling horror that had filled him when Light had touched his skin.

"Have you been around for a long time?" Light asked, turning his head to the side so that he could see L's answer.

He tried to conjure up his earliest memory, but all the days, nights, sunrises, and sunsets blurred together. He couldn't come up with a definite time, so he settled on a simple nod of his head.

"Maybe you just forgot how to use your voice, then," Light suggested, rolling onto his back and giving L a reassuring smile. "I can help you."

L shook his head; Death didn't need help with something as mundane as speech. Turning away from the boy, L focused his thoughts inward, trying to remember what it was like to use his vocal cords all those centuries ago.

He understood the human phrase '_use it or lose it'_ very well in that moment.

"I've always thought that you were mute," Light said, his voice threading through L's thoughts even though he was deliberately trying to block the brunet out. "If I had known before that you could talk and just… forgot how to, then I would have tried to help earlier."

L resisted the urge to roll his eyes – he would not degrade himself to do such a human action. Instead, he opened his mouth slightly, his tongue heavy and dry, clumsy in its movements as he tried to mold the sounds that his throat was struggling to make.

"Let's start with something simple," Light suggested, pushing himself into a sitting position and giving L a somewhat reassuring smile. "What is your name?"

L ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth, trying to get some saliva to spread around and make it not seem like he was eating cotton. Light caught on quickly, and he stood with a shout for L to stay put and jogged out of the room. L did as told, keeping his eyes on the door while stretching his wings out slightly. It'd been days since he'd last had them at full length, and with the continuous burn that always ate away at them, L was starting to worry that they wouldn't be good for much longer.

His stomach twisted at the thought.

He'd heard of fallen angels before, but was it possible for an Angel of Death to fall even further? He didn't think it could get any worse than being alive only to kill others.

Light came back then, and L was extremely grateful for the distraction.

"I honestly don't know if this will help," Light said, holding his arm out in front of him. L stared at the glass of water he was being offered, wondering how that could possibly help him.

Light saw his confusion and added quickly, "Sometimes it's hard for me to talk because my throat is so dry," he explained. "Water sometimes helps."

L's wings fluttered, and a few papers lying on Light's desk were blown to the floor, but he didn't seem to notice. After a few moments of debate, L reached out and carefully wrapped his hand around the bottom of the glass, taking extra care to not touch Light at all.

He stared into the clear water for a long time, trying to remember the last time anyone had offered him a drink, or even the last time he'd had a drink at all. The glass was cool against his lips, and the water was soothing to his dry mouth and parched throat, and before he knew it, the glass was empty and Light was beaming at him.

"Does it feel any better? Maybe not as painful?" he asked, expression looking far more hopeful than L thought it should.

Turning away from Light once more to focus on himself, L swallowed and found that it did indeed feel slightly different. His voice, however, remained elusive, even after three more glasses of water and multiple attempts at conversation. He could make small grunts, moans, and groans, but no actual words. The frustration that built up in the pit of his stomach had him pacing around the room.

Once, when the words stuck to the tip of his tongue after nearly five minutes of fighting with his own throat, L closed his eyes and wished he was somewhere, _anywhere_ else. He opened them to find Light simply watching him with a sympathetic look on his face, and L knew that nowhere else could compare to where he was at that moment.

When the digital clock on Light's nightstand glared midnight in bright red numbers, Light declared that they had tried long enough and would continue in the morning.

"I'm tired of calling you Mr. Angel in my head," he mumbled just before snuggling under his blankets and falling asleep. "I need to know your name."

L stayed next to his bed all night long, whispering _L, L, L_ over and over in his mind.

* * *

There was a small telly put into the corner of Light's room, and L was surprised to see the boy sitting in front of it instead of at his desk. Unsure of whether or not he would be welcomed to join Light on the bed, L perched himself on the windowsill.

"Dad bought it for me," Light said, knowing what L was thinking without the question needing to be voiced. "He thinks that it will help my imagination. He still doesn't believe that you're real."

L looked out of the window, bending his knees and circling his legs with his arms. He wasn't in the mood to even attempt at voicing his own thoughts, and so he entertained himself with the lull of Light's voice, smiling every so often when the crack of adolescence made the boy squeak in the middle of certain words.

They spent the evenings together with the gentle sounds of some program playing in the background. Sometimes L would watch the moving pictures, but his eyes usually strayed to the side and his attention rooted on Light.

"I don't know what is wrong with my face, but your staring is starting to worry me," Light said late one night, turning his head to face L. They were both laying on his bed, backs pressed up against the headboard. L didn't particularly like the position, as it hurt his cramped wings, but he wouldn't ever say anything since it would ruin the comfortable moments he spent there with Light.

Smiling, L ignored the otherwise obvious command and continued to watch him.

It was two months into this routine that something strange happened. The evening had started out as it usually did, with the pair taking careful steps around each other before they were once again loose enough to lay on the bed.

The program, from the few minutes that L had even bothered to pay attention to it, was about homosexuality. When Light sat up straighter, clearing his throat and watching the screen with clear interest, L's attention shifted to him completely.

His eyes remained firm and unwavering, taking in everything that the people were saying, what the images were showing, and the point that was trying to be made clear.

By the end of it, Light had started crying. Before the credits even started to roll, he'd shut the telly off and slipped under the blankets, curling up on his side with his back to L.

"I'm tired," he whispered, his voice heavy with an emotion that L knew only too well. He could hear the poorly muffled sniffs and silent sobs that Light was making, and had he been even the slightest bit more confident that his touch wouldn't result in the end of everything, L would have reached over to touch him.

"I wish you could talk," Light said, the words cracking and raw. "I want to hear someone say that they love me."

L's empty heart broke in half.

"And I wish I could touch you," he added, turning his face into his pillow just enough that his next words were almost impossible to hear. "I just want you to hug me."

_I'm sorry,_ he thought.

He could feel it then: his calling pulling him away. Even though he didn't want to leave Light alone in such a state, Death couldn't refuse to do its duty.

L, try as he might, could not speak. Two years' worth of failed attempts later and L was more than ready to simply continue his existence in complete, painless silence. He was tired of having a sore throat for days after a grueling night of unsuccessful progress. Light was far more motivated, however, and he continued to urge L to try even after tears had come to the angel's eyes and when his throat had felt like it had been scraped raw.

When Light turned seventeen, L found himself spending more and more of his time with the growing boy. The pull that usually took L away at random times had lessened greatly, and for days at a time he was able to remain in Light's company without having to rush off.

There were some days, though, that L wished he _would_ get called away. Anything would be better than having to deal with the difficulties of human emotions, especially when Light's seemed to be boiling over the edge. The first time that Light had expressed frustration towards L, yelling that even looking at him was irritating, the angel had fled immediately, confused about what could have possibly gone wrong to provoke such a response from Light.

He came back the following day, not that either of them had expected any different, but things were tense between them. Light treated him strangely, speaking to him in short, annoyed tones before diving into his homework and leaving L to stare at the back of his head in silence for the rest of the night.

It lasted a week and a half.

And it was the longest week and a half that L had ever had to live through.

L came to Light's room late on a Thursday evening, not bothering to arrive at his usual time since he knew Light would simply ignore him, but he couldn't stay away completely.

He found the boy already in bed, eyes staring blankly out of the window and so still that L worried for a moment that a different Angel had taken Light away from him.

"I'm sorry."

L stood once again in his customary place within the shadows before they had ever become so comfortable with each other, keeping silent as always.

Light sighed as the clock continued ticking, and L was sure that the boy was disappointed in him.

"I hoped it was just a confidence problem," Light continued, voice thick with held back emotion. He sounded like he would start to cry again. "I researched it, you know. Found something about selective mutism, and I thought maybe that was the problem."

The now intensely familiar silence settled around them as Light's speech came to an end, and L shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited for the boy to give any hints as to what he was thinking. Even though L had made it a habit to always be with Light at night, he'd leave in an instant if that was what Light wanted.

Light remained quiet, however, and L spent the evening watching him fall into a deep sleep.

* * *

The following days were spent in much the same way: Light keeping to himself, and L reminiscing on how they used to be together. On the third evening, Death was pulled away to do his duty and wasn't able to return until nearly sunrise.

He stood in the corner of Light's room, his wings folded closely against his back as he made himself comfortable on the windowsill. He let his head rest against the glass pane, his eyes gazing blankly out into the darkness before slowly fluttering closed.

He awoke when someone shook his arm, and he lashed out without thought, his hand shoving against a strong chest and pushing it away. When L's mind caught up with his movements, he shot to his feet and stared in horror, waiting for the boy in front of him to drop lifelessly to the floor.

He waited… and waited, until finally he realized that Light was once again unharmed.

The brunet's eyes were shining back at him with fear, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His arms were held out in front of himself and slightly to the side, as if he had reached out for something to hold onto to keep from falling before he'd managed to find his balance.

For his entire existence, L had known it was too good to be true. He'd known that it was impossible for a human to be in the hands of Death and survive. He'd known that no matter what he truly wanted, his purpose was to kill, and there was no way around it.

Now, however, things were different. He didn't _know _anything anymore. The fact that the only side effect Light showed from the skin-on-skin contact was a simple increase in breath rate proved that the brunet was anything but ordinary.

Or maybe… something inside L himself was changing.

It was a terrifying thought, as he didn't know how to be anything other than what he was, and L pushed it away firmly before it could take over his mind. Focusing instead on the boy before him, L swallowed heavily, weighing the options on whether or not another chance to feel him was worth the risk to Light's life.

The pictures flashing in his mind were dangerous. He wanted to touch Light, to feel his skin against his own. He wanted to wrap his young body up in his wings, to protect him from anything that would dare get too close, from the people that hurt Light every day. He wanted to bring him into his own world and keep him all for himself.

"Please," Light whispered, his voice cracking. "I don't understand."

L shook his head, lifting his hands to hide his face in an uncharacteristically human action, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to force the words from his throat.

"I…"

His eyes watered from the pain, and he could feel his face heating uncomfortably. A worrisome realization – the fact that his face felt as though it was on fire – but L focused instead on trying to speak, rather than his body's strange reactions.

Letting his hands fall back to his sides, L was surprised to find Light standing right in front of him. His arms were held out in front of him, and the tips of his fingers would touch L again if the angel were to take a deep breath.

"What is it?" Light asked, sounding so hopeful that L very nearly prayed to no one that he could finally find his voice. "Take your time. It's okay."

L swiped his tongue around his mouth, wanting to ask for some water but not knowing how to. Light caught his movement and seemed to understand what he needed, as he always did.

"I'll be right back. Wait here," he said before turning on his heel and practically running to the kitchen.

L did as he was told, repeating what he wanted to say aloud over and over to himself in his mind. _I am Death, I am Death, I am Death._

Light came back quickly, handing over a glass of cool water with a small smile. L nearly let it drop to the floor when their fingers brushed, though Light didn't seem at all bothered. He clearly still had no idea who he was dealing with.

_I am Death_.

He took a long drink before giving his first attempt.

"I…" He cursed mentally at himself when his voice cut off, not understanding why it was so difficult.

"You…" Light said, dipping his head down to catch L's eyes.

Taking a deep breath, L spoke softly, "I… am…" He had to take another break, but with the reassuring look Light was giving him, L decided it was worth the pain.

"You're..."

"Death," he rasped, taking another drink of water to try and cool the burning feeling in his throat. He set it down when he realized his hands were shaking.

Light's eyes had gone wide, and when he took a step back, L found himself hurting at the distance put between them, though he didn't know why.

"What?"

L pointed at himself with stiff movements, not wanting to strain his vocal cords further by repeating himself.

"You are Death," Light said slowly, his tone giving away his disbelief. His brow was furrowed and his expression screamed of his confusion. "I thought you were an angel."

L shook his head, watching Light's face for any trace of anger or hurt. He expected the human to lash out, having realized that he'd been thinking of L as something _good_.

Death was never a good thing, even if it came with wings.

The last thing L expected to have happen, though he shouldn't have been surprised at Light's acceptance, was to have the boy reach out for him. When he felt Light's hands come to rest on his shoulders, L tilted his head back as far as he could in surprise, his neck protesting the stretch.

"Am I supposed to call you that now? Death?" the boy asked, his face scrunching up and telling of his dislike toward the word.

L shook his head again and reached for the water, taking a long drink before setting it aside once more.

Light's hands remained on his skin the entire time.

And he was still breathing.

"E-Eh-" He cut himself off, teeth gritting together in frustration as he tried to remember how to move his tongue and lips properly for the sounds.

"Eh..." Light squeezed his arms where he was holding them, smiling encouragingly at L. The angel wondered briefly if Light was holding himself in check, as he looked like he wanted to shout in joy, or perhaps dance around the room in victory. Whichever option, L just wanted them to keep touching.

He tried again, taking a deep breath before focusing on his throat. "Eh… L."

Light had definitely been holding himself back. Now, standing in front of him and holding his breath, Light looked the happiest L had ever seen him.

"That's your name then?" he asked, his voice high with excitement. "L?"

He nodded, and to his own surprise, L felt an answering smile tug at his own lips. Light's happiness was contagious.

"L," Light repeated, and then he said it a couple more times for good measure.

His smile was beautiful.

L decided to stay silent, taking a simple pleasure in seeing Light so happy. The hands on his arms started to move, and he stood absolutely still while Light explored a small bit of his skin. His eyes closed of their own volition, as the foreign feel of someone running their hands over his chest was oddly hypnotic. It was relaxing, and the thought that Light was the one doing it sent a pleasant feeling through his body and made his stomach flip.

Right until Light's hand slid down his chest and came to a stop between his ribs.

"Your heart is beating so fast," Light whispered, his hand slowly rubbing the smooth, hairless skin it was resting against.

L felt his eyes widen after a moment of shocked stillness, and his head bent forward so that he could look at the boy's hand against him.

A beating heart.

A beating heart _in Death._

L panicked, shoving Light away from him without warning, pressing his own hand to his chest to feel the frantic pounding between his ribs. Gaze shooting to the brunet standing before him, L knew what he had to do.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

* * *

Over the following months, L made sure to keep his distance, and he didn't allow himself the privilege of going inside Light's bedroom even after the boy had long since fallen asleep. Instead, he would stand in the Yagami's yard and stare through the glass window while Light went about his nightly routine. Caramel eyes would look outside every night, and L was positive he was always seen, but he couldn't bring himself to get any closer. Light was either respecting him enough to leave him be, or he was confused and hurt to the point that he let L do what he wanted.

His heart (yes, _his heart_) clenched and ached in such a way that L seriously debated cutting all ties with the human to make it stop. He would have been able to handle anything other than the empty hollowness that was left behind with Light's absence.

Things changed, however, when Light was eighteen. The teenager reached out to his peers, rather than keeping to himself.

He was standing just outside of the window one night, stretching his wings out wide enough to block the moonlight from filtering into Light's room. Subconsciously, he knew that he was trying to make himself bigger, to make sure that he was always noticed and never forgotten.

Light would look at him from his place at his desk, a contemplative twist to his lips that made him look more fierce than L knew him to be. Light was not a creature bred in hate, and the dark expression on his face didn't match with who he was. L hated it, but he couldn't do anything about it.

It was nearly midnight when Light finally stood from his chair, stretching his arms up over his head. L caught sight of the skin between the waistband of his trousers and the lifted fabric of his shirt, curious at the mix of feelings that the display gave him.

Dropping his arms back down to his side, Light shuffled over to his bed and sat on the mattress after unbuttoning his jeans. His elbows hit his thighs and he buried his face in his hands.

"I won't wait forever, not if it's hopeless." The words were quiet and distorted through the glass, but L heard them.

L knew what Light was waiting for, and it absolutely terrified him.

He stayed in darkness even when Light found courage to come out to his father, when his father banished him from his sight until finally coming to his senses two weeks later, arms shaking and in tears as the two hugged. He watched as Light made friends, went on dates, laughed, touched, and kissed other boys.

L had watched as Light brought a fellow student home to meet his father, and though he had tried to convince himself that Death could feel nothing towards a human, he had to walk away when he spotted the two boys lying together on Light's bed, their arms wrapped around each other as they kissed.

He couldn't watch that. Seeing Light so close to another hurt him so deeply that L debated never returning, if only to save himself from the pain.

But L had been lost the moment he'd first laid eyes on Light, and no matter how badly his heart ached, or how badly his wings burned, he was hopelessly addicted.

He only wished that he could be happy for Light, rather than finding perverse joy in imagining touching his deadly hand to the boy who had dared to get so close to what was his. To close that boy's eyes for the last time for fitting in so perfectly into the place that L was meant to fill.

* * *

**notes:** thank you for the lovely reviews. They mean a lot to me. If I can, I will reply to your review if you're signed in. Let me know what you think :)


	3. Fly over me, Evil Angel

**three**

Longing was something that L was entirely unfamiliar with, though he was coming to realize just how badly he longed to be at Light's side always. He was starting to understand how his heart longed for him to speak to the human, for his arms to wrap around that strong body and hold it close to his own. He was starting to come to terms with the very human emotions that were seeping into his usually blank and cold mind, changing his perceptions of the world and what he wanted to _be_ inside it.

What he wanted to be… was Light's.

Sighing, L let his head fall back against the tree he was resting against. His eyes fell closed as he lost himself in the dark emptiness that had taken over his mind ever since he'd forced himself to stay away from Light. His thoughts were always either one of two things: Light, or they were nothing. As the months passed and the longing became even harder to ignore, L wished for the nothingness that he'd lived with before.

The mundane routine that he'd kept up throughout his entire existence was far more appealing than the painful hollowness that he was left with, sitting pathetically in the middle of a park with his wings curled around himself in a vain attempt to hide from reality.

The reality being Light walking through that same park with the boy that he'd been getting even closer to, though L had stopped watching him so closely. The last two weeks L had found himself fortunately distracted by the calling, and thoughts of Light touching someone else were pushed to the back of his mind for a few days of ignorant bliss.

Now, though, if L were to move his wings even the slightest bit, he would spot a familiar head of brunet hair resting comfortably on a shoulder, and he would see a not so familiar arm wrapped around Light's body, fingers no doubt tangled in and playing with his hair.

Jealousy was a new emotion that L was also getting a rather large taste of. He had never expected it to be such a vile feeling, but his stomach churned unpleasantly the longer Light stayed with that boy, and L's thoughts turned continuously towards pulling them apart.

He was sad, too. Sad that after so many years spent at Light's side, he'd been pushed away so easily. Pushed away and replaced so completely that those caramel eyes had stopped looking around for him. Instead, Light focused solely on the boy at his side. He smiled, laughed, talked, and touched that boy with such sincerity, such honesty, that L knew if he were to intrude now Light wouldn't like it at all.

Light was lost to him, and it _hurt_.

Wings feeling uncharacteristically heavy, L let them fall limp to the ground, and he had to squeeze his eyes tightly shut against the bright sunlight that beat against his eyelids.

He was tired. Exhausted even, though he hadn't known Death could ever be so worn out. All from watching as a human escaped his deadly grasp.

* * *

L lost himself. He threw all his being into his purpose. Ignoring the new and strange pull that he quickly realized brought him to Light's side, he focused only on the old and familiar one that brought him to the steps of a dying human. He slid his hands over countless numbers of bodies, and he watched as the life drained from people's eyes without even a flinch.

Outwardly, L continued to survive exactly as he had done before Light. Inwardly, he felt as though he was splitting in two.

For every person that he took away from the world, L's heart ached.

Instead of doing what was needed to be done and _leaving_, L started to notice those that were affected by his doings.

The sight of an elderly man waking up next to the cold body of his longtime wife was something that would forever be burned into the backs of L's eyelids, and now he found himself unable to sleep without that man's heartbroken expression coming to mind.

It took L two and a half months to realize that the strange evolution of human emotions inside him would certainly be what ended him. Death itself would die of a broken heart.

L had no problems with that, as living was becoming the worst sort of agony.

Six months had passed since the last time L had laid eyes on Light, and though the image of the brunet smiling at him was never hard to call to mind, the sound of his voice was. The sound of Light rambling on about what had happened that day at school, about how his father had gotten a promotion with a substantial pay raise, or about how Light was getting tired of sleeping alone and _"why won't you just come lay here? The windowsill can't be comfortable to sleep on."_

L looked across the lake he was standing near, his bare toes less than an inch from the water's edge. His eyes stung from being forced to stay open for so long, and he blinked them quickly to wet them up again.

In his gut, L knew what he truly wanted to do. He was getting exhausted from running, tired of hiding, and sick of the longing that he had been left with. It was forbidden and impossible, but L wanted it all. He wanted to be able see Light and not think about the possibility of an end to their strange relationship. He didn't want to worry about someone else coming in and sweeping the human off of his feet. Instead, L wanted to take Light into his arms and fly away with him to a place where it was just the two of them.

He wanted so badly. He wanted everything. The stupid grins that he'd seen couples give each other for no other reason than meeting eyes, the small touches that meant more than the long embraces, and the permission to lay with each other in bed and wake up in the morning with their limbs tangled.

He wanted it.

For the first time in six months, L imagined Light's room, and the next time his eyes opened, he found himself staring through the clear glass and into darkness. His heart pounded as he searched out for Light, whimpering when the boy didn't come into his sight immediately.

It took a few minutes for him to understand what he was seeing: darkness, empty shelves, bare walls, stripped bed, and an empty closet.

He was gone.

With frantic movements, L made his way into the house, finding the rest of the rooms just as empty. The air was stale and hard to breathe in, as if it had been months since it had last been disturbed.

L did a quick recount of the months he'd been gone, and confirmed to himself that it had only been six. Time had never been an issue before, especially on such a small scale. L was used to measuring time in decades, not days.

Six months to Death was nothing. In six months, for a human, _anything_ could happen.

Maybe something had happened to Light. Even though L was the Angel of Death that was supposed to have ended his life, maybe something went wrong and someone _else_ took Light away from him. Perhaps his father couldn't bear to live alone any longer and left – left behind the memories of his son.

Left behind L.

He panicked, though he didn't know it at the time. He didn't understand what it meant to have a strike of terror hit his heart, springing him into action without even thinking about what he was doing. He couldn't think rationally – not when Light was missing.

His wings beat once, hard, as he turned and sprinted out of the house. The thought of Light lying cold underground somewhere ripping the last shreds of the heart that he'd somehow grown right out of his chest.

The night air was cold, but L didn't notice. His thoughts circled only around finding Light, focusing on the pull that had been itching the back of his mind for the last six months but unable to get a grasp on it.

Being alone was nothing like L had imagined. He'd been alone before, of course, but being alone after having someone in his life was entirely different.

Light was his, L knew that. He had placed his own branding on that human's skin the day that he _didn't_ touch him. Light wasn't allowed to leave him alone in the world until L decided it was his time. He wasn't allowed to disappear until L was ready to let him go.

L didn't think he'd ever be ready to let him go. He didn't _want_ to let him go. His chest ached with the thought of never seeing him again. Even if Light was with someone else, L just wanted him _there_. He wanted him alive, breathing, happy, and at his side, in his sights.

His thoughts slowed after that.

Death wasn't meant to long for life.

* * *

Blinking, L realized that he was somewhere he'd never seen before.

The building was tall, the dark brick walls were haunting almost, as if meant to intimidate those who walked by. L, however, walked into the front doors without thought, keeping his wings folded closely to his back to keep from accidentally brushing against anyone near him.

It was a hospital, he realized after making his way down one long hallway. Though it wasn't a regular one. This one was built for long-term patients, metal objects hidden, bleak walls, nurses with calm voices but strong arms, capable of holding someone down should they get out of line.

On the upper floors, L found rooms that were padded, and he noticed the doctors were walking around with syringes filled with a substance that was used specifically for knocking a person out – tranquilizers.

He paused then, black eyes staring in shock as his mind finally pieced together what he was seeing.

Light was there, hidden away in one of the rooms, likely passed out cold on a small bed from the medication that the doctors had given him. The thread that usually connected L to him had been cut in half by pills that made Light nothing more than a lifeless body.

Anything could happen to a human in six months.

L's legs carried him slowly down the hallway, towards a door at the end that he somehow knew separated him from the brunet boy that he had been trying so hard to let go.

Hanging next to the door was a clipboard, and L's eyes scanned the words quickly, his heart beating faster with every second.

_**Patient:**_ _Light Yagami._

_**Admitted:**_ _23/4_

_**Symptoms:**_ _Extreme hallucinations, which patient reacts and converses with._

_**Observations: **__Violent. Requires medication to keep from acting out. Often asks for "L". _

_**Notes on 'L':**_ _Patient has been seeing L since his early teens. Describes him as pale, thin, black hair, black eyes, and with black wings. When asked if he sees an angel, response is "death". Patient describes L as being missing/disappeared. Though is sure he will return._

_**11/6:**_ _Hallucinations are minimal with medication. Patient set to be released __1/7.__ Recommended to not live alone._

L stepped back from the door, swallowing heavily as he turned his eyes away from the clipboard and tried to prepare himself for what was waiting inside.

So much can happen to a human in six months.

So much _has_ happened to Light in the last six months, and L wasn't sure if he was prepared to face it. Or, though the thought worried L, Light may not have been prepared to face _him_. With another glance at the chart, L stepped further away from the door, not wanting to compromise Light's release date by simply showing up after months of absence.

That night, so close to laying eyes once more on the human that had captured Death's attention so firmly, L walked away.

* * *

He ended up living in a small house on the edges of a very insignificant, very secluded town. L found him again in the middle of June, mere weeks after he was released from the hospital. Light's father was asleep on the old recliner on the first floor, snoring loudly over the sound of the telly.

Looking through all the rooms on the first floor before making his way upstairs, L finally stumbled upon Light's new room. The walls were painted off-white and were empty of any pictures. His desk only held his computer, the shelves were empty, and his clothes weren't hanging in his closet.

Either Light had yet to move in completely, or he was keeping everything personal hidden away.

L wasn't sure which of the two he hoped for.

After giving the room a thorough once-over, L turned his attention to the bed and to the human sleeping peacefully under a thin sheet. Looking closer, though, and L realized how ironic that wording had been.

Light was sweating, as L could tell by the light sheen of wetness that was covering his visible skin. His arms were thrown over his head, his legs spread and bent, outlined by the shadows in the white sheet. His eyes, he was ashamed to admit, lingered on those slender limbs far longer than necessary, memorizing how Light looked in that moment – even though it wasn't _peaceful._

Dreams were something that Light didn't have very much of when he was younger, and L couldn't remember a single night where Light was thrashing in his bed, trapped inside his own mind and desperate to get out. Staying where he was, L watched as the boy fought to wake up.

His thoughts paused then – _boy_.

Light wasn't a boy anymore, L realized. Somewhere in the last six months, Light had grown into something that L hadn't even thought about. He was an adult, and the way his expression was pained even in sleep spoke of the things he'd gone through. L hadn't expected his absence to hurt Light in such a way, since the brunet had had someone else to fill the ache that L had to face on his own. Light was not as alone as he was.

Or perhaps he was? L had been wrong before.

A moan brought L out of his thoughts, and he focused on Light's writhing body, wondering at the strange feelings coursing through his body as the seconds passed.

L coughed, loudly, and then froze when Light's body jerked and his eyes flew open. He spotted L almost immediately, and he could hear the brunet's breath catch in his throat before it escaped his lips in a shaky sigh.

He stood frozen in the doorway, having no idea what to do – what to say.

Light stared at him with wide eyes, though they weren't full of fear as L had expected them to be. He had worried that Light would deny him, would deny his existence. He had been terrified of being cast out of the house and back into the world alone.

He didn't want to be alone anymore.

"L," Light whispered quietly, as if he was scared speaking too loudly would make L disappear again.

Stepping further into the room, L felt his wings flutter behind him before folding them close to his back, the bottom feathers brushing against the backs of his thighs as he moved across the room towards the side of Light's bed. He watched nervously as Light pushed himself up, leaning his back against the headboard, the sheet falling to his lap.

His chest bare for L's gaze, the angel didn't think twice about letting his eyes trail over the tanned skin. Skin that had once been as familiar as his own was now marked by scars, and L wanted nothing more than to ask what had happened.

Why had so much happened in six months?

_Why couldn't he have been there?_

"You're…" Light started, his eyes still so wide as he looked over L's body, "here."

L tilted his head to the side, his wings stretching out slightly from behind his back. Without thought, L took another step closer, stopping only when his knees touched the mattress.

When had Light grown into something so tempting? Something so beautiful?

L knew then that he was no angel, for no angel would want to taint what was already so perfect. And Light was _perfect_, yet, for some reason that L couldn't understand, he wanted to take that perfectness and mold it into something else entirely.

He wanted Light's innocence. He wanted to consume it. He wanted everything that the human had to offer, even though it would never be his to take.

Light, always able to read him so well, saw the path his thoughts were taking, and the fear that had been missing from his eyes slowly started to seep through.

"Scared?"

There was complete silence, and then L realized that it was he who had spoken.

Fear turned to shock, which quickly turned to excitement and something else that L couldn't understand. Understanding human emotions completely would forever remain elusive.

Shaking his head, Light pushed the sheet away from his body completely, and L could feel his cheeks heat when he saw that the human's body was just as naked as his own.

"They told me that you weren't real," Light said, a sense of déjà vu falling over both of them.

_"He told me that I needed to stop talking to my imaginary friends. Otherwise I have to go see a doctor._"

Oh, Light.

"I'm here," L said, extremely thankful that his voice wasn't failing him. "Here," he repeated, just because he could.

A small, timid smile started to pull at Light's lips. "You're real?"

L brought one wing in front of himself, and Light reached out to brush his fingers over the feathers as if he could read the angel's wants right from his mind. When his fingers weaved between the feathers and slid along their thin spines, Light's smile grew.

_Real._

"I knew I wasn't imagining you," Light said, swinging his legs out and sliding to the edge of the bed. L watched as his tanned thighs spread around his own pale legs, close enough to feel the heat from Light's body, but not close enough to touch.

Light remembered, then, what had caused L to leave.

"I knew you were real."

L took a deep breath, his eyes sliding closed as Light finally reached out and touched him.

Forcing himself to remain still, L reveled in Light's touch – the way he flattened his hand against L's stomach, the way he scratched his nails lightly across L's skin just to see the red line slowly appear.

"What…" L coughed to clear his throat, wondering how long his voice would last. "What happened?" _To you_, he wanted to add but couldn't. It hurt him to think it.

Light trailed the pads of his fingers over the lines he'd left on L's body, staying quiet for so long that the angel wasn't sure if he'd get an answer.

"Since you left?" Light asked finally, meeting L's eyes only long enough to see him nod before looking back down at his stomach. "I'll tell you only as long as you promise not to disappear like that again."

_Never again._


	4. Why can't I breathe, Evil Angel

**four**

If there was anything in L's entire existence that he regretted, it was the fact that he could not understand sympathy. He was Death, and it didn't matter how often he took a life, he didn't feel any remorse or anguish for his actions. Death didn't touch him the way it did a human, though he sometimes wished it would if only to understand what Light was going through.

He didn't want Light to have to face something so dark alone.

Now, sitting on the edge of Light's bed, his feet flat on the floor and his wings pressed tightly against his back, L tried to understand what he was feeling, he tried to understand what Light was telling him. He tried, tried, and tried to put himself in Light's place. He wanted to feel his pain, if only to be closer to him.

When Light caught L's eyes trailing over the long, white scars on his body, he started talking about the boy that he'd been with – the one that had been the final straw.

"We were dating," he said, rubbing his hand up and down his arm as if he was a little chilled. "He was the only other gay guy that I knew at school. The only one that had come out anyway

"Why?" L had asked, truly curious. He couldn't imagine staying with someone (couldn't imagine _being_ with someone) unless he liked them, and Light was going against those thoughts.

Human emotions. He very nearly rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Some people can truly love more than one person at a time," Light explained, hesitating only the slightest bit when he noticed L's confused expression. He swiveled his eyes away then, continuing only when he was turned completely away. "I don't think I can do that."

He still didn't understand. Love was an emotion that L wasn't brave enough to face quite then, as he was already about to drown with the weight of everything else he was feeling.

"Anyways." He looked back at L, giving him a small smile before focusing once more on himself – on the past. "I made the mistake of telling him about… well."

L was fascinated with the red coloring darkening Light's cheeks, and he didn't realize what he was doing until the backs of his fingers were brushing against the brunet's smooth skin. When Light didn't push him away or protest, L turned his hand around and pressed his palm lightly against Light's jaw, reaching with his other hand to hold the man's head in his hands.

"Well?" he pressed, interested in the story just as much as he was in exploring Light's body.

"I-uh, th-that…"

Riveted by Light's expression, L moved one hand and trailed the tip of his finger down Light's nose, pausing briefly on the tip before moving on to his lips. They parted under his finger, and L felt the shaky breath that Light let out. The slight tremor that went through the brunet's body at his touch was also recognized as something that L had seen when Light had been with that other boy – when they had been lying together in bed, touching in a way that L didn't quite see the point of.

It was another thing that had changed in him. He loved the shudder that took hold of Light. He loved that a simple touch could reduce Light to a shivering mess. He loved the way Light was looking at him in that moment, with his eyes wide and unwavering, taking in everything on L's own expression with a look of wonder.

It was just another part of him that had evolved since he'd first laid eyes on the man in his arms. He relished it.

"What were you going to say?" L asked again, cupping Light's face between his hands once more to feel his jaw move against him. His eyes stayed focused on Light's lips, watching as they parted and moved around the words.

Light took a deep breath, his eyes glancing over L's face though the angel was sure his expression was nothing more than a blank stare.

"I told him that I was in love with someone else," he said finally, keeping his voice so quiet that had L been breathing any louder he would have missed it entirely.

_In love with someone else?_

L pulled his hands back, letting them fall limply onto his bare thighs as he turned away. "Someone else." He closed his eyes gently, not understanding why those words were hurting him so badly.

He could feel the mattress shift with Light's movements, but L was still startled when a hand brushed lightly against the base of his wings, so softly that it felt like someone was breathing against him. Keeping his body turned slightly away, L looked to his side at Light, meeting his shy gaze with one of his own guarded looks.

"These are softer than I had expected. It surprises me every time I touch them," Light said, briefly glancing at the soft feathers his fingers were brushing against with a small smile pulling at his lips. L found it impossible to look away.

They sat in silence for a while, the previous conversation slipping away from them without a care. Though L couldn't imagine Light with anyone other than himself (didn't _want_ to), he instead forced that thought out of his mind, focusing on the present – on Light sitting there in front of him, softly caressing skin that no one had dared or had the chance to come close to before.

He closed his eyes for a moment, following the movement of Light's hands. They circled around the base of his wings, right where the line of his skin was broken by downy feathers. His skin broke out in goosebumps, and he couldn't help but chuckle when a delicate patch was brushed against.

"You're so sensitive," Light whispered, running his hand over the top of L's wing and down to the tip. He smiled when L stretched the limb out and curled it around Light's body, caging him into L's side. "This is nice."

L grinned at him, letting his hand come to rest on Light's bare thigh. The thin hair on his leg tickled L's palm as he rubbed it, and he found the sensation nothing short of fascinating.

"I was in an accident," Light said, his eyes following the movements of his fingers as they trailed over L's shoulder and down the length of his arm. L watched as those fingers wrapped around his frighteningly thin wrist before flattening and sliding up the inside of his forearm.

He noticed that the place Light was touching was disfigured by a jagged scar on his own skin.

"Bad?"

Light nodded. "Yes," he whispered, his back straightening as he used his other hand to point at a different scar on his chest. "The windshield shattered, and a piece of glass flew right into me here."

L reached out without thought, tracing the mark with the slightest touch. Light's throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he let out a shaky breath when L's hand smoothed over his chest.

Light moved onto a different scar, one that followed the curve of his side. L nearly bent himself in half when Light's hand tickled up and down his ribs. "My door nearly snapped in half and some metal piece scraped against me here. This one took the longest to stop bleeding."

L's brow furrowed as he imagined Light lying on the ground somewhere, alone, and about to meet his end.

It was enough to make him sick.

He was Light's Angel, and he hated the thought of anyone else taking him away. He put his hand on Light's side, imagining the blood flowing over his fingers even though the thought sent a sharp stab of panic to his heart. He couldn't get it out of his mind.

Why hadn't he been there?

"I got this burn from the airbag." Light pointed to the side of his neck where a batch of thickly scarred skin trailed down the side of it to just above his collarbone.

L kept his hands where they were – one against Light's chest, the other resting against his side – and merely let his eyes glance at the different areas of Light's body that the brunet pointed out. The most interesting (and, shockingly, the hardest to not touch) was a thin scar on the inside of his thigh, only a few inches away from his groin.

He stared down between Light's thighs, keeping his eyes on the circular scar and not on the length hanging there.

"I got that one when I was... sixteen, I think?" Light said, reaching down and brushing his thumb against it. L felt a delicate shiver run through his own body when the underside of Light's wrist bumped against his cock, pushing it and moving it. "It was the night that I finally admitted that I was gay."

L looked away from the temptation before him, meeting Light's eyes steadily. He noticed the way they had darkened and how the pupils were wider than normal. "How did that result in a scar?" he asked, letting his arms relax until his hands were resting on Light's stomach and hip.

"She didn't like being told to back off," Light said, voice caught between pain and laughter. "So she bit me."

Eyebrows near his hairline, L could feel his lips tilting up, his eyes crinkling at the edges as laughter built up in his chest.

He forced himself to remain calm only because Light looked truly offended, though he still did find the story amusing.

"I'm just glad it wasn't my knob." Another wince, and L couldn't do anything but follow Light's hand when it moved to cover his soft length, as if to block it from any unwanted advances. A few seconds later, L realized he'd been staring again, and was jolted out of his fuzzy thoughts at the sound of Light clearing his throat awkwardly.

"This is getting a bit weird," Light mumbled, scooting back on the bed until L's hands could no longer reach him. The wing around his body relaxed and folded against L's back.

"Indeed," L agreed, though he really _didn't_. He wanted Light back where he had been, and he wanted to keep his hands on his skin at all times. He wanted to possess him so completely that Light wouldn't be able to leave the room without him.

L was sure that that wasn't quite natural, so he kept silent and let Light pull the sheets over his body and look at everything that wasn't him.

Deciding to break the uncomfortable silence surrounding them, L spoke softly, "What caused the accident?"

Light's attention was back on him almost instantly, but his eyes weren't as attentive as they had been. In fact, L would say that he looked sad.

"I was driving." He started, fiddling with the frayed edge of the blanket unconsciously. "Tyler, my ex, was with me. I can't remember what we were talking about, but we were arguing about something." He took a deep breath, collecting himself. "I stopped paying attention to the road, but it couldn't have been for more than a second." Another breath. "That was all it took, though," he whispered.

L wanted so badly to reach for him, to comfort him in a way that he'd seen many humans do after he'd taken away their loved ones. He knew Light thrived on touch – on closeness – but he didn't want to overstep his boundaries.

"I thought I saw something," Light said, bringing L's focus back to him. "It distracted me for just a split second, I swear. The next thing I know, I'm waking up in a hospital and Tyler's parents are refusing to let us see each other. I _still_ haven't seen him."

L's mind floated elsewhere instantly at the worry in Light's tone. He sat motionless for a long minute, letting the strings of his power touch upon the people still alive. He found Tyler easily, alive and well in his parents' house.

"He's fine," he said when he came back to himself. "Things are healing quite well for him actually." He frowned, upset at the realization that Light had been injured far worse in the accident.

The brunet smiled softly, looking down to the floor with a shake of his head. "It's still understandable. Any parent would have a hard time letting their kid ride around with a mental person."

Ah.

L understood it then. _He_ was what Light had seen, or thought he had seen.

Light nodded in confirmation when he realized that L had caught on. "You disappeared for so long that when I saw this guy – who really didn't look like you at all when I think back on it – I was just struck dumb, I guess you could say. I froze, stopped paying attention to the road for a split second, and ran the car head first into a semi-truck." He shrugged as if getting into a nearly fatal accident was an every day thing.

A cold chill seeped into L's lungs and made it hard for him to breathe. He could see Light lying lifelessly on the black top road, blood seeping out of his side where a piece of the car had slid into his gut. It hurt to even breathe, so he held his breath since Death didn't need something as trivial as air.

A few moments later L was gasping, lying on his back on the floor where he'd fallen off the mattress. Light was kneeling over him, holding his shoulders in his strong grip and staring at him with frightened eyes.

"_Breathe_, you idiot! What were you doing?" Light shouted, forgetting where they were for the moment and who was downstairs.

L gulped in large breaths, his lungs burning with the effort. He reached up and gripped Light's arms, staring into his caramel eyes to keep himself grounded.

His body had never reacted so strangely before when he had deprived it of oxygen.

He wondered, then, what would change in him next.

"Breathe, just relax," Light whispered, calming himself down. He glanced over his shoulders when the voice of his father trailed up from downstairs, asking what was going on. "Nothing! Sorry, just forgot myself for a second," he yelled back. He turned his eyes back to L and tugged on his arms. "You have to get up, but stay calm. I have to take care of this."

L had just made it to the corner of the room, bent over his knees and taking deep breaths in through his nose when Light's father hurried through the door.

"What happened?" the older man asked. "Are you okay?"

Light nodded from his place in bed, having been quick to cover himself up again before his father had seen him. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I thought I saw L," he said honestly.

His father shook his head, shoulders slumping down in disappointment. "Light, I thought we were over this."

Holding his head in his hands, Light sighed heavily, ignoring the pain in his thighs when his elbows dug into them a bit too sharply. "We are over it. I see nothing," he whispered, and it felt like someone had stabbed L right in the gut. "I thought I saw him, but I know I didn't."

"Good," his father said, nodding to himself before walking to his son's side and sitting next to him. He wrapped an arm around Light's shoulders, pulling him close and resting his head against the brunet's. "You have made such good progress. I just don't want to have to go back." He smiled sadly. "That would hurt you. I know it would."

L glared from his spot by the window, wanting to kick Light's father out of the room (or maybe out of the house entirely). He didn't understand why people insisted on telling Light that what he saw wasn't real when it _clearly_ was. They were the blind ones.

"Was it the same person?" his father asked, lifting his head to look around the room. "Black hair, wings, all that?"

Light nodded, straightening up and looking L right in the eyes. "Yeah, he was just trying to make me feel better," he answered, though he looked incredibly uncomfortable with the situation. "I couldn't sleep very well."

"You're sure he's not here now?"

Shaking his head, Light gave L a secretive smile. "He's gone. He wasn't there to begin with."

His father grinned, proud.

* * *

"Put these on," Light said one day, only moments after L had appeared in his room.

Giving him a questioning look, L reached out and took the pair of black sweat pants from Light's hands, holding them in front of himself in confusion. "Reason?" he asked simply, not wanting to put in the required effort to speak a complete sentence. Though he was getting better at speech, it still was painful if he spoke for too long.

Light's cheeks turned a light pink, and he looked away from L before answering. "You're distracting, walking around naked like you are."

L raised an eyebrow as he stretched out one wing and curled it around himself to hide his body from Light's peaking eyes. "If I'd known, I would have done something."

The brunet's blush turned darker. "I-uh, don't _really_ mind," he mumbled, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck awkwardly. "But I think I'd be able to focus better if I couldn't see… well, you know."

L shrugged, unconcerned, and pulled the pants on with only a moment of consideration. He frowned heavily when he was finished, finding the feeling of cloth rubbing against his skin extremely unpleasant.

Light looked at him as though he was the most entertaining thing ever when he scrunched his nose up and whined.

"You find this funny?"

Light nodded with a smile, then remembered himself and shook his head quickly. "Of course not. I don't think it's helping anything though." He rubbed a hand over his hair, the other smoothing down his shirt and tugging on the bottom hem. His feet were constantly shifting the weight of his body, and it looked like he was having a hard time standing still.

L stood straight, arms crossed over his chest and a small smirk pulling one corner of his lips up. He beat his wings softly once behind him before folding them to his back. "Something wrong?" he asked, knowing what was on the man's mind.

"Not really," Light answered, and he didn't sound as though he was any more focused than usual. "You look good in my clothes."

Looking down at himself, L held his arms out to the side, trying to see what Light was seeing. He turned his eyes back to Light just in time to see the brunet mouth _'what the fuck'_ to himself, his expression one of absolute embarrassment.

"I don't like them," L said, letting his arms fall limply to his sides. His fingers itched to push the pants down to his ankles, but he didn't want to go against Light's orders. If Light wanted him to wear clothes, then that was what he would do.

"Take them off, then. It's pointless anyway," Light said, sounding as though he was giving into something that he really didn't want to… even though his eyes shined brightly when L kicked the sweats aside.

Crawling onto his bed, Light laid on his back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Medication might be needed," Light mumbled to himself.

L frowned. "Why?"

Light's blush spread down his neck. "You're naked in my bedroom, and I'm attracted to you. It's not a good combination."

L turned his attention elsewhere. He was only just starting to get a grasp on what attraction felt like, but he didn't understand the connection that being in Light's room had with the emotion.

Humans were entirely too complicated.

* * *

Throughout the following week, L remained at Light's side at all times, leaving only when he couldn't resist the calling, and only because he wasn't sure what would happen if he ignored it completely.

Light went through his days as he normally did: waking up, getting dressed, going to work, coming home, showering, and then relaxing a bit before bed. Though L was curious as to how the routine of it didn't bore Light out of his mind, he was glad that the man had found something easy to spend his days doing.

"Dad's been asking questions again," Light said one evening, slowly picking his way through a box of Chinese food. "He said he heard me talking to myself. How ridiculous is that?" He laughed bitterly, putting aside the food with a scowl.

L leaned against the wall next to the window, looking out across the yard and wondering if Light would perhaps want to take a walk with him. "He's just worried," he said without thought.

Light snorted, his tone showing his irritation clearly. "He can worry about something else."

L stayed quiet. He was familiar enough with Light's moods to know when he needed to speak and when he needed to keep silent, and so he turned his attention away and wondered once more about going for a walk.

"I want to move out," Light said, voice hard and sure.

L looked over at him, eyebrows raised in question. Things changed drastically after that, and L could do nothing but stand at Light's side.

* * *

Having a history of hallucinations and the occasional violent mood swings was not beneficial to Light's argument that he was mature enough to live on his own. His father also mentioned the fact that he was missing a proper education, having spent all his saved up uni funds to pay for the hospital care. Every time the subject was brought up, they got in a vicious fight. To L it seemed like they simply wanted to see which of them could shout the loudest.

He truly didn't understand what the problem was. Surely having a parent worry about their child's well-being wasn't something that should cause such drama.

"I'm _not_ crazy!" Light had yelled at him when L had voiced his thoughts. He kept everything to himself after that, and he had to endure Light's cold shoulder for the rest of the day.

That night, L stayed outside, much like he had all those months before. He lounged out on the grass, watching the sky lighten as the sun just started to rise. Things were different now, however, and instead of avoiding each other, Light joined him in the early morning sunlight, sitting close enough that their legs touched.

"Sorry about earlier," Light said after a few moments, nudging L's side with his elbow when the angel didn't meet his eyes. "I was just still… upset about the fight with dad."

L gave him a smile, having had forgiven him the moment the words had left those full lips.

"Maybe staying here isn't such a bad thing," L tried suggesting again. He took the words back immediately at the glare Light gave him. "Bad idea, then. You should leave."

He looked away when Light busted out in laughter. "Suck up," he teased.

Smiling to himself, L watched out of the corner of his eye as Light stretched his legs out and crossed then at the ankles, leaning back on his elbows and letting his head drop so that he could look up at the sky.

They sat in silence, Light looking at the rising sun, and L looking at the tanned skin that wasn't covered by his boxer shorts or t-shirt. He reached out to the skin on display, placing his hand against Light's stomach. The brunet tilted his head up again, looking down at L's hand with a slack jaw.

"I'm sorry," L whispered without thought. "For leaving you."

Light took a deep breath, letting it out shakily when L's thumb brushed against the uncovered skin between the waistband of his shorts and his shirt.

"I don't… um," Light started, trailing off as he watched L's movements.

Moving to copy Light's position, he turned his body to face the man fully. L slowly pulled Light's shirt up as his hand wandered up his chest, stopping only because the brunet's arms were holding it down.

"L," Light murmured, his own hands clenching when L pressed his palm fully against him. "What are you…" He took another deep breath, shifting his hips when L traced the outline of his abdominal muscles.

"I enjoy this," L said, moving his touches to the side until the pads of his fingers brushed against a perked nipple.

Hearing Light whimper at the touch, L remembered himself and pulled his hand away with a shake of his head, trying to sort through the mess of thoughts that were floating through his mind.

Light cleared his throat and pushed his shirt back down, pushing himself up to sit cross-legged with his fingers playing with the short blades of grass in front of him. "Things turned out alright, though," Light said without looking at him. "Even though those were the longest, and quite possibly the worst, months of my life."

L frowned, wondering at the ache in his chest. _Regret?_

"A lot can happen in six months," L added.

Light nodded slowly, his brow furrowing as something came to mind. "Six months?"

"Yes," L answered, giving Light a curious look.

"I hadn't seen you in nearly eight months."

Sighing, L hoped that Light wouldn't get too mad at him. "I found you in the hospital," he explained, keeping his voice soft and calm, not wanting to give Light the wrong idea. "I would have… talked to you sooner, but I didn't want to mess things up since you were going to be released soon."

Light rolled his eyes before replying. "That last month wouldn't have been nearly as bad if I'd known you were waiting for me at the end."

Skin starting to warm under the rising sun, L turned to Light with another apology on the tip of his tongue. His words, however, froze in his throat at the look the brunet was giving him.

"But you're here now." Light smiled, wrapping his hand around the back of L's neck and pulling him close. Their foreheads touched softly, and L could once again feel his heart beating madly in his chest, though this time he didn't run because of it.

"It's curious," L said quietly, placing his hand against Light's cheek.

"What is?" Light asked, and L shivered at the feel of his breath blowing against his lips.

L swallowed the large lump in his throat, running his hand through Light's hair. "Human emotions." He smiled, tugging at a strand of hair until Light gave him a smile of his own.

"I can teach you what you need to know," Light said, rubbing his thumb against L's skin. His eyes darted down to L's lips for a brief moment before looking back to his eyes.

"Perfect."

Light nodded, his smile slowly fading as he tilted his head slightly to the side and leaned even closer. "I think I love you," he whispered against L's lips before pressing their mouths softly together.

His heart started to beat impossibly faster.

* * *

**notes:** thank you for the lovely reviews. There is still quite a bit more to this story. Please let me know what you think.


	5. There is nothing left of you

**part II: five**

There was something about being watched all the time that set the hair on the back of L's nape on edge. The feel of eyes tracking his every move made his spine tingle in a way that he couldn't even describe. He had never been conscious of his nakedness before Light, but now he was very aware of it every second of the day.

When he would first come to Light's side after answering his calling, the human's eyes would immediately trail up and down his body. At first L had suspected that Light was simply checking that he was alright after being away for such a long period of time, but it became more obvious when the boy's eyes would pause for a moment on the length between his legs before moving elsewhere. L was ignorant on most things sexual when it came to human beings, but he understood what a penis was used for, and he understood that Light was one of the boys that liked them.

He wondered to himself for many nights if he should be embarrassed or worried about how Light was growing to act around him. The boy certainly wasn't afraid to get close, using every opportunity that came up to brush his hands on L's body, to get the angel to wrap his wings around him.

"They make me feel safe," he said one night, resting his cheek on L's chest while his arms snaked around the shocked angel's waist. "Please."

L could never resist such a pleading tone, and so his wings curled around Light's body until they were both lost in the shadows of their own private world.

He cherished those moments of silence. It was the chance for him to simple bask in Light's presence; to listen to his heart beat strongly against his chest; to feel the way his breath blew across his bare chest; to enjoy how Light's fingers would caress the skin at the small of his back where he was surprisingly sensitive. Everything about those moments was something to be cherished, and he only hoped that they held such magnificence for Light.

"Stop thinking, L," Light would whisper, and his hands would travel all along the span of L's back until his body relaxed. "You get so tense. What are you thinking about?"

L dropped and tilted his head down until it rested against the side of Light's. His arms, draped over the human's shoulders, bent until they slipped over the curve of Light's arms. Their bodies came closer together, touching from their knees to the tops of their heads.

"I was thinking about you," he answered after a moment, taking a deep breath after the words passed his lips. The crook of Light's neck always smelt the strongest of his natural scent, and L loved it.

Chuckling, Light shrugged up his shoulders until L was forced to move away. "That tickles when you do that," he said, still laughing. "Why does thinking about me make you tense?"

L smiled. "Thinking about you relaxes me; touching you makes me tense." He squeezed Light in his arms and brought his wings tighter around them. "I have never touched anyone like this before."

It was miniscule and probably meant nothing, but Light shivered in his arms at those words. L stared at his closed eyes, noticing the way Light's lips were curved up in gentle smile.

"I love your wings," Light said, opening his eyes and reaching out to sink his hand into the soft feathers. "They make me feel so good when you do this. Safe."

L hummed and dropped his dead down to rest his chin on Light's shoulder. He didn't have anything to say to that, and he used the moment to press his body harder against Light's.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" Light asked, taking a step back to put a small bit of distance between them. He met L's eyes with a thoughtful grin.

"What's ironic?"

"That they offer me safety, while you call yourself Death."

L frowned and pulled away completely, unwrapping his wings from around Light and flattening them to his back. "I am Death," he said, and finally answered the calling that had been ringing in the back of his mind for the entire day.

* * *

"This is ridiculous."

Light rolled his eyes, holding his hands out palms up in a sign of surrender… though L knew better than to believe that the human would ever stop bothering him about it until he understood everything there was to know.

When Light had told him that he'd teach L the meanings of human emotions, he was being very serious.

"You want to be able to understand me when I have a breakdown, right?" Light had said, looking up at him from his seat on the bed with eyes that could only be described as _puppy-like_. It was impossible to say no to such a sweet face, and so L found himself being bombarded with new things to learn and understand after agreeing to the teachings.

It had now been ten days, and it was becoming clear that L had no business dabbling in the day-to-day activities of those who still had air in their lungs.

"You're the one that wanted to know," Light argued as he walked back to his bed and laid down. L stood in front of the window, refusing to move after Light had mentioned how awkward it would be if someone _else_ could see him.

_"They'd probably tell my dad that I have a naked man in my room. He'll just be _so happy _to hear that. I can picture it now."_

_"He won't think you're crazy anymore."_

_"But I don't think he likes the idea that I'm gay any better than the thought of me having an imaginary friend."_

Knowing that no one else would be able to see him (Light was just a glitch in the universe), L stayed right where he was just to get on the human's nerves. Light would keep a sharper eye than usual on him whenever he stood there, tense and ready to tackle him out of view if need be. L suspected that Light would tackle him anyway, just so they could touch once more.

Secretly, he wished that would happen.

L sighed and reached out to press his palm flat against the glass in front of him, trying to find the right words to ask Light to go outside with him. He wanted to lay out on the grass with his wings spread beneath him, holding Light against his chest while they just looked up at the sky and talked about everything.

Even Death could dream.

"I think that one is longing," Light said suddenly, sounding pleased with himself.

L turned his head towards the lounging brunet, raising a single eyebrow in question.

"You long to be outdoors," he explained with a bright smile. L found it incredibly difficult to look anywhere else. "You told me that you liked to stalk people."

With a snort, L turned back to the window, stretching one wing around himself to hide his body from Light's view. If there was one thing that L had learned after spending all of that uninhibited time with the boy, it was that he absolutely loved to look at him. L still hadn't quite figured that bit out yet, though he did understand the appeal of watching an unsuspecting person; however, L always knew when Light was watching. What was even more baffling was the fact that he usually _liked_ when Light's eyes were on him.

Though he was sure the human didn't notice, L had taken to smoothing out his feathers in the night when Light was asleep, and he'd even found the closest stream and bathed in it every other day. He wasn't quite sure _what_ he was doing, or even _why_ for that matter, but when Light had mumbled something about loving things that were clean, L realized that he… wasn't, and he wanted to fix that.

"I don't stalk people," L said, finally bringing his thoughts back to the conversation at hand. "If they were around me, then I watched them." He paused, thinking to himself and making sure he was thinking of the correct wording. "I'm positive that is not stalking."

Light shrugged and crossed his arms behind his head, staring up at his ceiling, though L couldn't see what was so interesting about the white tiles. "Okay then," he said, a small smile coming to his face. "You were creeping on people."

L shook his head and deemed Light a lost cause.

* * *

Staring down at his hand, L curled his fingers into his palm, wondering at the bite of pain when his fingernails bit into his soft skin.

That was his most recent finding – pain.

It had been just days before when Light caught on to what L was doing to himself. They had been resting for the most part, watching a bit of telly before Light fell asleep.

L found his inner wrist to be most sensitive to scratches or pinches, as the rest of his skin was thicker.

Ten minutes into scratching and digging his thumb nail into his wrist, Light heard him whimper in pain. The explosion afterward very nearly scarred L more than the abusive act itself had.

Light had ordered the angel to always remain in his sights, and if he caught L doing anything that would hurt himself, he'd threatened to cut ties. Of course L took him seriously, remembering how horrible things had turned out the last time they had been separated.

There were moments, however, when Light was asleep and L just couldn't make his thoughts stay still long enough to get any rest himself when he would pinch the fleshy skin of his palms, or he would drag his nails down the length of his arm, watching with curious eyes as long, red welts appeared shortly after. To keep his late night activities a secret, L would snatch one of the extra blankets from Light's closet and drape it over his body, using it to cover any patches of red skin from Light's eyes when the human would finally wake up.

With a flinch, L's attention came back to the present and he relaxed his hand. He pressed his lips tightly together in thought at the small crescent moon scratches in his skin. He swiped the thumb of his other hand against them and raised an eyebrow when a little blood smeared across his palm.

Never in his entire existence had he ever thought he'd see blood from his own body.

Lips turning down in a small frown, L brought his hand closer to his face, staring intently at the cuts. The pain had become little more than a dull ache, and, curious as to what would happen, L pressed his index finger into one cut, hissing when a stinging sensation shot down the length of his entire arm.

Interesting.

At the sound of Light groaning in his sleep, the angel turned his attention to the human, forgetting completely about his hand as he crawled onto the bed, settling down next to the brunet with hardly any noise. Light was not a morning person, and L had learned from experience not to wake him up before he was ready. So instead, L watched unblinkingly as Light rolled onto his back, raised his arms over his head, bowed his back up in a full body stretch, and slowly opened his eyes.

He loved watching Light wake up, and even though he'd been told multiple times that keeping his head merely inches away from Light's was a frightening thing to wake up to, he could never resist getting closer.

"Good morning," L said. A small smile was on his face, as seeing proof of Light's existence always made him feel like he could do anything. He'd mentioned the feeling to Light once, and the boy had explained it was 'happiness'.

Light gave him a smile in return, pushing the blankets down to his hips and resting his hands on his flat stomach.

Temptation was also something that L had started fighting with, though he had never built up the courage to tell Light about it. He'd done his own research (stalking, Light would call it) on the mating habits of human beings, and it very nearly drove him off. The last thing he wanted to do was mess up the fragile connection he had with Light, and human relationships seemed to fail more often than not.

"Morning," Light mumbled back, his voice raspy and deep – another thing about him that L found endearing.

"Sleep well?" he asked, knowing that it was the polite thing to do.

Light rolled his eyes as he pushed himself into a sitting position, giving L's bare shoulder a light shove. "Yes, pet. Thanks."

_Pet_.

Whenever Light called him that, a brilliant feeling would plant itself in L's stomach.

A nickname. Light's nickname for him.

A sign of possession.

L looked away when Light crawled out of bed, walking naked to the bathroom without a second thought and without even a hint of shame. Death smiled.

* * *

"So, why can _I_ touch you?" Light asked one day, dropping the question casually while making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

L shrugged from where he was standing, his wings blocking the majority of the open archway that led to a large sitting room. "I don't know," he answered honestly, having never found out a reason for Light's strange ability. "You're the only one that can."

Light smiled, pleased. "I like that," he said, tone confident and proud. L's thoughts once again turned towards human relationships, and he wondered if he had built some strange sort of demented bond with the man talking so easily with him.

"I think I do too," he whispered, more to himself than to Light, though from the brunet's growing smile, it was obvious that Light had heard him.

He was taken out of his thoughtful daze, however, by a slap on his bare backside when Light strode by him.

* * *

"Why are they black?" Light looked at him with a curious expression, clearly not caring about the other people walking around in the park they had decided to spend the afternoon enjoying. They laid out under a large oak tree, keeping close enough that the backs of their hands sometimes brushed.

L sighed, rolling onto his stomach and pillowed his head on his crossed arms, watching Light with a curious stare. "There has to be a reason for everything?"

Light glared halfheartedly at him, obviously resisting smacking the back of L's head as he'd taken to doing lately. "No, but I was just wondering. Angels are said to have white wings. You know, to represent purity, or whatever."

"I'm no angel," L said seriously. "I told you who I am."

Nodding, Light moved onto his side, reaching out without hesitance to lay his hand at the base of L's wings, smiling when they fluttered at his touch. "You don't seem like you could hurt anything," Light said with a fond smile, laughing softly when L stretched one wing out and let it curl around Light's body. "I love these," he said as he petted his hand across the feathers.

"It doesn't take much," L said, words muffled slightly by his arms. He lifted his head and repeated himself when Light gave him a confused look.

"No, no, I heard you." He shook his head as he let his hands continue to slide over L's feathers, curling around the thin bone at the top of the wings and stroking to the very tip. L's entire body shivered in response. "I just don't understand, I guess."

L sniffed, not wanting to talk too much about his purpose. He knew death was a sensitive subject for humans, and if Light ever found out that L himself had taken away some of his family members…

No, he didn't want to think about that at all.

"Is anything humans believe about angels and whatever even true?" Light asked after it became obvious to him that L wasn't going to elaborate.

L rolled onto his side, facing Light, and let his wings fall limply against the grass behind him. "I'm not sure," he replied. "I've never spoken to any angels."

"None at all?"

He shook his head, picking at the blades of grass between him and Light. "I did what I was meant to do." He shrugged again. "I didn't care much for what was going on around me."

Light gave him a smile, his eyes shining with amusement. "Unless there were people around to stalk," he teased, reaching out with one hand and laying it against L's side.

Glancing down at Light's hand, L found himself once more wondering at the strange feelings rolling through him. He wanted to ask the human what they meant, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He breathed in deeply when Light's thumb rubbed absentmindedly against his skin, and his entire body tensed a moment later when the brunet scooted a little closer.

"Nervous?" Light whispered, smiling the smile that was usually enough to calm L down again, but it only made him even more uneasy.

Swallowing loudly, L kept his eyes glued onto Light's, trying to read what he was thinking – what he was planning. The moment their lips touched, L's body turned to putty, and he practically melted into a pool of goo when Light let his hand slide to L's back, curling his arm tightly around him.

Kissing was nice. L enjoyed it. He loved being close to Light, and the handful of times that the brunet pressed their lips together were all counted as the best experiences L had ever had.

L was brought out of his thoughts at the feel of Light's tongue swiping against his bottom lip, sliding into his mouth a moment later when his lips parted on a gasp.

Lust.

He was getting more and more familiar with that one.

Getting more confident in his own actions, L kissed back with ease after getting over his initial surprise, sliding his hand through Light's brunet hair and tugging the smooth strands.

L would never tire of kissing Light, he was certain.

* * *

"Who are you talking to, Light?" one of the girls at the grocery store Light liked to frequent asked, giving him a confused look.

L leaned to the side to look over Light's shoulder, glaring at the woman who had interrupted their conversation. Giving him a warning look, Light turned around and explained with a laugh that he'd been talking to himself (_"I can't remember if he wanted me to bring home white or wheat bread."_).

The girl nodded her head even though it was clear that she didn't believe him.

Light had been living in that small town with his father for nearly a year, and no matter how hard they tried to keep his mental history private, word had eventually spread that Light had been recently been released from a hospital and was still fighting for his sanity.

The rumors made L's blood boil; a rage that he wasn't quite sure he could control bleeding out of his heart with every beat.

"Well, he usually gets whole-wheat bread when he shops here," the girl offered, brushing her bangs out of her eyes before crossing her arms loosely over her chest.

Light thanked her politely, and only gave L a glance when she was out of earshot.

"This town will be the death of me," he mumbled, snatching a loaf of wheat bread from the shelves for appearance sake. "Why dad thought this place would help me, I will never know. It's more likely to rot my brain."

L stayed silent as the brunet stomped up to the registers and paid for the bread, Light's words ringing through his mind. This town will be the death fo me. No, but L would be.

He followed a few steps behind minutes later as they were walking back to Light's home, keeping his eyes on the cement sidewalk in front of him.

"Can you fly, then?" Light asked suddenly, slowing his steps until he was walking at L's side.

Beating his wings once, L nodded with a small smile. "I don't very often."

"Why not? That'd be awesome!" Light said, his voice loud with excitement. L couldn't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm.

"If I fly, then I can't be with you."

There were a few seconds of silence before the words actually registered in L's mind, and he could feel a blush coloring his cheeks when Light stopped walking and stared at him. Turning slightly to keep the brunet in his sights, L waited for him to sort through his thoughts.

"That's… really sweet," Light mumbled, his own cheeks turning a bit pink.

L shrugged, not sure what else to say.

They didn't say anything else, but feeling Light's hand bump into his own once before the human laced their fingers together satisfied him more than words ever would.

* * *

"I went to the grocery store today, and Sarah told me that she saw you talking to yourself last week," Light's father said one evening during supper.

Light froze, his fork falling onto the plate with a loud clatter. "I was just trying to remember what kind of bread you wanted. Didn't she tell you that?" He laughed awkwardly, and L pushed himself away from the wall and moved to stand just behind Light, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"No, she didn't," his father said, sounding rather disappointed. "She told me that you were talking to someone named L, though no one was with you at the time."

Light let his head drop forward, and L could feel his body tense up underneath his hand. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, scooting his chair back and standing quickly. L's hand fell to his side and he took a step back to get out of the brunet's way.

"Take your medication," his father said sternly, going back to his supper without a second glance.

L followed Light to his room, reaching for his hand halfway up the stairs and taking hold of Light tightly. He didn't think he was very good at the whole comforting thing, but Light always seemed to relax a bit when L was touching him.

Light led them to his bed, laying on his side and pulling L down behind him. He wrapped L's arm around his waist, keeping their hands locked as he lined their bodies up.

"I'm not crazy," he whispered.

Sighing, L placed a soft kiss against the back of his neck, tightening his arm and pulling Light's body flush against his own until they were touching completely from their heads down to their toes. "He's just worried," L said, though he had no idea why he was trying to defend someone as ridiculously ignorant as Light's father.

"I bet he's the reason everyone in this stupid place thinks I'm insane."

L stayed silent.

"How else could it have gotten out? He's the only other person who knows anything about me," Light continued, keeping his voice down so that his father couldn't accidentally overhear him. "If anything, he should be on his knees thanking you. You're the only reason I'm here at all."

His heart skipped a beat at that, and L nearly told Light just how true that statement was. Instead, he kept his thoughts to himself, curling a wing around their bodies as he nuzzled his face against the crook of Light's neck. He laid a few gentle kisses against the skin, wanting nothing more than to wipe the thoughts of betrayal from Light's mind.

They relaxed and cuddled for a while, just taking comfort in holding the other. L was sure that Light was going to fall asleep from the gentle caresses L was giving him, running his flat palm down Light's chest until his fingers brushed against the waistband of his trouser before trailing it back up.

Whenever Light shifted his weight, L followed him easily. Their bodies rolled together, relaxed together, always touching and never apart for more than a breathless second.

Nearly an hour had passed when Light started to move his legs around, sliding one back between L's and trying to get impossibly closer. L paused in his petting when the hips cradled against his body pressed back harder against him, rubbing up on his bare thighs and the length between his legs before falling still.

His body was tensed after such contact; his heart pounding widely in his chest. He didn't know what he was feeling, but it left him stunned.

"Do you ever get…" Light started, but he cut himself of with an embarrassed groan before he could say anything too revealing.

Forcing himself to move, L got up onto his elbow and slipped his hand out of Light's hold, using it to push Light onto his back so he could look at his face. "Ever get what?" he asked, knowing that Light wouldn't let him get away with it had their positions been reversed.

The brunet blushed heavily, laying a hand over his face as he laughed at himself. "Nothing, please, just forget I said anything." The embarrassment was just as endearing as Light's confidence in L's eyes.

"Tell me," L urged, pulling Light's hand away and pinning it to the mattress. "What were you going to say?"

Light took his bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on the flesh for a distracting moment as his eyes danced over L's face. "Don't… don't laugh at me."

L's brow creased in confusion. He'd never laughed at the human before, so he didn't understand why Light would think he'd start now. "What were you going to say?" he repeated, shifting his body slightly and stilling only when his crotch pressed against the side of Light's thigh.

Light's throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he took a deep breath before finally answering. "Do you ever get… hard?"

A moment later, L was wrestling Light back onto the bed when the brunet had tried to run off after the words had been muttered. "L, please. Did I seriously just ask you that? Bloody embarrassing. Let me _go_."

L ignored him, holding Light's shoulders down as he swung a leg over the brunet's hips and settled on his lap.

All the fight seemed to leave Light in a flash, and he stared up at L with his mouth hanging open in surprise. He groaned softly when the angel shifted his weight as L tried to get comfortable.

"Stop. Stop, please, stop," Light mumbled, placing his hands on L's sharp hipbones and forcing him to stay still.

L stared down at him worriedly, wanting to take his customary place at Light's side, but the hands on his body held him firmly in place.

"Thank fuck these trousers are tight," Light whispered, slight tremors shaking his body as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He closed his eyes then, and they sat in silence for nearly a minute before L started to fidget once more. When Light looked at him again, his eyes were shining with amusement but were darkened by something else. "If you keep moving like that, then I will take no responsibility for my actions."

L raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked over towards the window.

Light laughed quietly, his hands rubbing up and down L's side. "You have no idea what you do to me," he said, squeezing L's sides before letting his hands trail further back.

L shivered at the touch, turning his attention back to Light with a frown. "And what is that?" he asked, genuinely interested.

Shaking his head, Light gave him a mischievous smile. "I'm not telling." Scratching his nails against L's lower back, Light's smile slowly faded into something more serious. "Spread your wings out," he said a little breathlessly.

Wondering what the point of it was, L did as asked.

He felt Light's body tense beneath him and his nails dug harder into L's skin the longer he kept his wings spread. They blocked the light from the window, and Light was left to lay in their shadows.

"Oh fuck, get off of me. I can't do this," Light growled, pushing L roughly aside and jumping up from the bed.

L watched with a small grin as Light ran to the bathroom just next to his bedroom in the hallway, the door slamming shut behind him.

* * *

**notes:** thank you for the amazing reviews. I'm so happy that you're enjoying this. Please let me know what you think of this one.


	6. Sing the anthem of the Angel

**six**

Light's father, who L still hadn't bothered to remember the name of, kept very close to his son over the following weeks. He was convinced that Light's hallucinations were back in full force, and he took extra care to make sure that Light was taking his prescribed medication. The only time the two were ever alone was when it became impossible for the older man to keep his eyes open any longer, and he would have to retire for some much needed rest.

Though L wanted to hate the man (if only because he had a tendency to try and erase L out of Light's mind), Death had a slight bit of respect for him. It nearly broke L's newly beating heart whenever Light was forced to take his medication, and he could only sit by and watch as Light slipped away from him and floundered in whatever false reality the medication put him in.

That scared L the most, even though he knew it shouldn't have. L himself _knew_ he was real. He _knew_ he wasn't a figment of Light's overactive imagination. He would look down at his own hands, spread his fingers apart and feel the air moving around his solid form. He could breathe in for a few seconds and feel oxygen fill his lungs.

Quietly, with a soft pounding that was slowly becoming more familiar to him, his heart would continue to beat and prove his existence.

When the boy took the pills, however, he was completely ignorant to L's presence at his side. For those torturous hours, the angel could do nothing more than stand aside and wait for Light to come back to him.

On the other hand, Light's father acted like all was right with the world: his son was sane, there were no naked angels with black wings hiding in his son's shadow, and their family was perfectly normal.

It was a bright, warm day when Light and his father made their way into town for lunch, both having tired of eating microwaved meals since neither could really cook anything decent. L followed as he always did, even though Light was lost to him for the moment. He kept his distance, sulking every time someone came up to talk to the pair simply because that was something he _couldn't_ do.

That day, however, things spiraled out of his control quickly, and he didn't notice anything was wrong until the two had already taken a seat at a table that already had an occupant. He watched helplessly as Light's father introduced him to a young, good looking man who was the exact opposite of L in every way.

Where L had dark hair, that man's was blond, long, and wavy. Where L's eyes were a cold black, that man was looking Light over with warm chocolate colored ones, his gaze shining with interest. His arms were strong, skin tanned, and his smile was far brighter than L could ever dream of his own being.

He was also completely real and completely human.

L turned away when Light took the man's hand with a smile of his own, completely oblivious to the angel wandering around – the angel that he had confessed his love for not long before.

"It's nice to meet you, Light," L heard the man say, his voice smooth and welcoming.

Without another thought, L left.

* * *

The following days were a blur, as one again L found himself being pulled to strangers' sides almost continuously. He wasn't given any opportunities to wonder what Light was getting up to, if he'd hit it off with that man, or if his father had backed off at all. He knew he had likely missed many things, but he couldn't bring himself to go back so soon – frightened by what he might find.

Instead, L took up his old habit of sitting back and watching humans go about their lives, smiling to himself when one would trip over a crack in the sidewalk, or frowning when one would be forced to a standstill as they heard some horrible news. His chest ached when a couple would walk by, grinning at each other while they laced their fingers together in front of the rest of the world.

They weren't hindered by physical boundaries, ignorant parents, or whatever else could drive a wedge between two people in love.

And yes, L could admit it to himself at that point: he was in love with Light.

He wasn't completely sure what love felt like, but he knew seeing Light looking at anyone else the same way he looked at L when they were alone was nearly enough to break _Death's_ heart. Then, when Light's full attention was on him, he felt as though he could take on the world.

That had to be love.

If it wasn't, L didn't really care. Calling it love made the most pleasant tingles trace down his spine and settle in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't want to lose that.

Three weeks and two days after Light was introduced to Mr. _Not-L_, the angel convinced himself that it would be alright to just check in – to make sure that Light was getting on alright. What he found was shocking, and it made him sick when he realized what was going on.

The house was cold when he arrived, and Light's father was nowhere to be found on the first floor. Instead of sitting in his usual recliner, the older man had brought a wooden chair to Light's bedroom and was sitting at his bedside, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his clasped hands.

L stepped into the room, holding his breath for fear of somehow signaling his presence to the one man that could banish him from Light's world.

The boy himself was hidden under a large pile of blankets, and L could see the fabric vibrating slightly from his shaking body. He frowned, wondering if the human had come down with a cold. He'd seen Light sick before, and he knew that he might be bedridden for a few days trying to recover. He had also seen Light cry before, and he could tell the difference between the two.

In the stuffy air of the room, quiet sniffles could be heard just barely over the sound of the air-conditioning humming softly under the window. Light's father, face contorted in sadness and helplessness, watched silently as his son seemed to breakdown in front of him.

L reacted before he could think about what he was doing, rounding the bed and running his hand through the brown hair that wasn't covered by the blankets. Light's body jolted at the touch, and he pushed the covers away from himself with a flourish, as if he knew exactly who was touching him without even seeing.

When their eyes locked, L could see the boy's chest stop moving for a moment, just before he let out a loud exhalation and swung his legs off the side of the bed. Light's father was forgotten in that instant, and L reached out to pull Light close, his fingers brushing against clammy skin just as his father grabbed his arm and jerked him back.

"Light, please, just settle down. There is nobody there," he pleaded, actually sounding frightened.

Looking over his shoulder, Light glared at his father coldly, trying to get his arm out of the older man's grip without avail. "Just because _you_ are too blind to see him, doesn't mean that he isn't there," he said between gritted teeth, digging his heels into the floor and using his entire body to pull away from his father.

"Light, please. My son, believe me," he whispered, eyes shining with tears and pain and absolute anguish.

L never expected to see that expression on a man that was usually so composed, especially around Light. Now, however, it was as if his father was about to give up, holding onto one last thread of hope that his son was still his son.

When Light finally got out of his hold, he turned to face his father fully, stepping back until he was pressed against L's solid body. "Why would I believe you?" he asked, voice still hard with anger. "I'm touching him right now," he added, smiling cruelly when his father winced. "He's here: warm, strong, and _real_."

The old man sighed, his entire body sagging as the fight left him. "I'm sorry, Light," he said under his breath, turning and walking away without another word.

Shocked by what he had just seen, L's arms moved on their own, wrapping around Light's body and pulling him tighter against him. He rested his chin on Light's shoulder, rubbing his hands along his soft stomach as he tried to find something to say.

Light beat him to it, giving his arm a squeeze before turning in his embrace. He smiled up at the angel, holding his head between his hands and pulling him close until their foreheads were touching. "I love you," he whispered, breath sweeping across L's dry lips.

They stood in silence, L unable to speak the words in return though he knew they felt the same. Their hands skimmed over whatever skin they could touch, lips touching for a short, teasing second before moving elsewhere. So lost in everything that was Light, L didn't even feel his own body reacting until a sharp sting spread across his back, and he was forced to pull away from Light with a pained hiss.

His wings burned and shuddered, a feeling that he had thought he'd gotten past returning tenfold.

"What's wrong?" Light asked, sounding breathless and concerned.

L gave him a short glance, stepping back and sighing in relief when the burning slowly faded. He realized then that he'd stopped hurting only when Light was no longer touching him, as if his body knew that a human wasn't supposed to be in contact with it.

"L?"

He met Light's worried eyes, shaking his head quickly when the boy reached out for him. L held his hands out in front of himself, forcing space between them even though that was the last thing that he wanted.

"What's wrong?" Light repeated urgently, finally understanding that something was seriously wrong. He continued trying to get close, wanting to get a hold of L's arms, but his hands were batted away every time.

L hated the hurt look that Light was giving him, having wanted to never be the one to put that expression on the boy's face.

With something that sounded suspiciously like a whimper, Light tried one last time to get close, gasping when L slapped his hand away hard enough for it to sting. When he stared at L in shock and fear, the angel turned away.

The next time Light blinked, the familiar black wings and pale body were nowhere to be seen.

Again.

* * *

"Oh, hello, Mr. Yagami! It's good to see you."

"Hello, Sarah."

At the familiar voice, L looked to his side and was surprised to see Light's father and the young girl from the local grocery store walking through the park that he'd been called to just moments before. He hadn't seen the older man for nearly a week, as he had taken to keeping his distance once more.

Mr. Yagami looked exhausted. The bags under his eyes thick and dark, and even the smile he gave Sarah couldn't hide his dark mood.

Looking once more around himself, L wondered why he had been called to this place. Was there a reason he was pulled to Mr. Yagami's side, or was it Sarah that he was supposed to take care of?

He watched with curiosity as the pair spoke for nearly half an hour – mostly about Light and the recent bout of hysteria he'd put his father through. Sarah was sympathetic, giving Mr. Yagami's arm a friendly squeeze at the end of their conversation before she continued on her way.

L frowned when he was allowed to stay at Mr. Yagami's side – he knew very well what that meant for the older man.

He followed the human as he made his way back to his small house, a slight limp to his walk that L noticed only when they were nearly to the front door. He watched closely as the man fumbled with his keys, his hands shaking so badly that he had a hard time unlocking the door. Making his way into the house, L swallowed the peculiar lump in his throat and made his move before he lost his nerve.

Mr. Yagami had taken his usual place in his worn-out recliner, flicking through different channels on the telly rapidly.

L placed himself right in front of the man, taking another deep breath to calm his racing heart down.

It was the first time he doubted himself.

The moment his hand touched the sweaty forehead of Light's father, he regretted it with every ounce of his dead soul.

When he pulled his hand away, L watched with a frown as Mr. Yagami's eyes wrinkled around the edges in a squint.

"You're…" he said on a gasp, voice rough as he fought (and failed) to get the words out.

L's entire body jerked in surprise, his jaw dropping as the human slowly lost the battle with keeping his eyes open.

He lost track of time, standing there with his mouth open as he stared at the unmoving body before him, wondering what the man had been trying to say just before he'd taken his last breath.

Turning away, L's gaze froze on horrified caramel.

Light stood with his hands gripping the stairwell tightly, looking at L in absolute terror.

"I am Death," he whispered, trying to remind Light of what he'd told him all those months before. He took a single step forward before stilling once more at Light's reaction.

"Don't come any closer!" he shouted, tripping over his own feet in his haste to turn and run back upstairs. He let out a pained howl when his ankle twisted, but he continued moving nonetheless, scrambling up the stairs and awkwardly running into his room.

At the sound of the door slamming shut, L fell to his knees, putting his hands in his hair and tugging mercilessly at the strands as he screamed in agony.


	7. Say the last goodbye

**seven**

Not knowing what else to do, though understanding that what he'd done to Light was unforgivable, L held his breath as he walked up the stairs. He'd stayed on his knees beside Mr. Yagami's cold body for nearly an hour before he'd been able to calm himself down. It took another hour and a half for him to convince himself that it _might_ be alright if he checked on Light.

The stairs creaked under his weight as he walked up them – as they always did. That time, however, the sound echoed off of the walls and sounded eerily like the anguished screams from those whose lives L had taken. His ears rang loudly, painfully, but he forced himself to keep moving.

The air itself felt as though it was solidifying against him, as if even the molecules that he couldn't see were trying to get him to leave.

The tips of his wings dragged against the floor behind him, his body too tired to hold them aloft. The skin under his eyes was raw from him rubbing away a wetness that he didn't understand. His heart ached with a pain that was excruciating – almost enough to bring him to his knees once more, but he couldn't allow himself to stop.

He had to see Light, especially if that moment was the last chance he would ever have to look into the boy's stormy eyes.

The door to Light's room was still closed, a sliver of light shimmering through the cracks between the wood and the wall. L rested his hand against the cold handle for a brief moment, closing his eyes as he tried to calm his pounding heart.

Light, when L finally found the courage to face him, was sitting at his desk with a familiar orange bottle clutched in one of his hands. Rolling around on the desk and resting unmoving on the floor were the pills that he'd fought so hard against having to take, and even though L was too late to see if Light had taken any now, he knew the boy already had.

Taking a small step into the room, L watched closely for any reaction to his presence. He would leave the moment Light told him to. Even if it was the last thing that he himself wanted, he would do whatever Light asked of him.

They remained surrounded by oppressive silence, and L wondered for a moment if the medication had started to take effect.

In that moment, everything clicked.

L took a step back towards the door. His sight was blurring, his heart racing, his palms sweating, and every inch of his body was screaming at him to get Light's attention. He knew, he _knew_, that Light would be lost to him forever if he was allowed to take those pills – if he was allowed to continue thinking of L as a murderer.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to say a word. Nothing but shaky breaths passed his dry lips as he stood there.

If Light wanted to forget about him, if he wanted to believe that L was nothing more than a cruel figment of his imagination, who was L to argue against that?

He could make it easier for the human, and that was what he intended to do.

He'd hurt Light more than he had ever, _ever_ wanted to, and hurting himself by disappearing completely seemed like the only option he had left.

* * *

When, to an immortal, time felt as though it had come to a standstill, L knew that he had never been through such torture.

He had no energy to move. The calling that pulled him away _at least_ once a month had gone completely silent – leaving him to his own devices for nearly eight months.

Without any type of distraction, L hid himself away in a small cave that he'd spotted in the side of a mountain centuries before. A large boulder had fallen and blocked nearly half of the cave's opening, but there was still a big enough gap for the angel to slip through with only a slight bit of trouble.

The air was cold, and the high altitude made breathing harder than L was used to, but he eventually adapted to everything. He'd had experience with winter, but it was incredibly limited. The only good thing about being what he was, was the fact that he could be anywhere he wanted, at any time he wanted. It hadn't taken him long to realize that cold weather – freezing rain, snow, and a general lack of sunshine – wasn't something he enjoyed.

The cave, then, was perfect for his punishment.

He was forced to live in an environment that tested his limits, and he was tortured daily by thoughts of (and regrets for) what he'd done to Light.

Eight months spent sitting in the same, crouched position, the only movement being that of his chest rising and falling.

At least, he thought it had been eight months. He'd lost count of the nights he'd gone through after the first five months, and beyond that he allowed his mind to blank completely. Food and water weren't needed, so he didn't even bother trying to find any sources for either.

During the dreariest of days, however, L found his thoughts brightened by memories of the good times he had spent with Light. He remembered how it felt to kiss the boy, their arms circling each other and holding on tightly as if they just _had_ to be as close as possible. He remembered what it felt like that one day when he'd built up the courage to sit astride Light's hips, looking down at the beautiful body beneath him.

He remembered how he'd felt the first time Light had told him he loved him; the sun just peaking over the treetops as they relaxed on the cool grass. He thought of the sorrow he'd felt when Light had explained the accident he'd been in, and the sadness that swept through him when the boy had explained the different scars on his body.

Though sometimes, when he was too lost to the world to keep his punishment as it was supposed to be, L thought of what _could_ have been. He imagined how different things would have turned out if he had met Light in a completely different situation.

_What if I was a human?_

_What if I wasn't meant to take away his loved ones? Would he still be with me if I had been sent somewhere else, rather than at his family's side?_

He could see himself laying on his side, caressing Light's cheek as they laid together in his bed, scooting close so that their bodies touched from chest to thigh.

But how could he ever be forgiven? _Why_ would Light forgive him for taking away the few people in his life that he actually cared about? Light didn't have many friends; those who knew him were weary because they thought he was insane, and those who didn't know him were warned to keep their distance. Then, the only people that Light had allowed to get past his guard, L had taken away from him.

He couldn't blame Light.

He would never forgive himself, so he didn't see why Light would either.

* * *

It was during the dead of winter when L was pulled out of his cave. For the first time in months, he was called to a human's side and was forced to take their life. He didn't want to do it, not after what had happened.

He stood next to the bed of an elderly woman that had been admitted into the hospital, and he fought desperately against the instinct that was screaming at him to move closer – to shorten the distance between his palm and the woman's skin.

He lost in the end, and he wasn't surprised when his sight blurred in a way that he was getting more and more used to. Turning away from the bed, L walked unseen through the group nurses that rushed into the room, sneaking out into the brightly lit hallway before collapsing back against the wall.

Sinking to the floor, his entire body shook as he listened to the urgent orders coming from inside the room – the nurses trying everything they could to bring the woman back.

L dropped his head between his knees and wrapped his thin arms around himself, trying to hold himself together, though all he wanted to do was let go.

One minute.

Tears rolled down his cheeks in a continuous stream. His chest ached from the labored breathing that he couldn't smooth out.

Two minutes.

The nurses were getting louder, the shrill, never-ending beep of the heart monitor ringing in his ears.

Three minutes.

"I have a pulse!" someone in the room shouted, followed closely by the sound of a loud gasp. The monitor started beeping quickly, and that was when L finally understood what had happened.

He stood up quickly, dashing back into the room with wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. He stared in shock at the woman breathing and _alive_ on the bed before him, an oxygen mask cupped over her mouth and nose as the nurses continued to bustle about.

Eyes still wide, L looked down at his hands in wonder.

* * *

An entire year had passed before L finally broke, making his way back to Light's side with a nervous and nearly broken heart.

The town was just as dull as he remembered, and the house where he'd last seen the boy looked as though nothing had changed about it. It was quiet and well-kept – the lawn freshly mowed and watered, flowers and vines growing beautifully.

The inside was the same as well, even Mr. Yagami's favorite recliner was still in the same place L had last seen it. The stairs cringed under his weight just as he knew they would, and his heart started to beat frantically in his chest just as he had expected when he saw the open door to Light's room. When he entered, however, no one was there.

The house was empty, though it seemed to be full of life. When he looked closer, he saw that hardly any dust had been allowed to settle, all the beds were made, and no messes were left anywhere. Someone still lived there, at least, and he could only assume it was Light since all of the Yagami's possessions remained in place.

Wandering back downstairs, L made his way into the small kitchen and perched on one of the stools that had been placed in front of the counter, resting his elbows on the pristine marble top as he stared at the digital clock glowing at him from the stovetop. It was only two in the afternoon, so if Light had gotten a job – which he likely had to, to afford the house – he still maybe had all night to wait, L couldn't be sure.

But he would wait.

He needed Light. He needed to see him again.

He couldn't count the number of times anymore that he'd tried to stay away from the human. No matter what he did, the string that connected them always brought him back. He could only hope that Light wouldn't be completely revolted at the sight of him.

_Or maybe he is still taking his medication?_ L thought, frowning and hoping that that wasn't the case. He didn't have any idea how to communicate with Light when he was taking those pills, so everything he wanted to do would have to be put on hold for an indefinite amount of time.

Though, if Light _was_ still taking the pills that would be more than enough of an answer to what L wanted to know.

Could Light forgive him?

Laying his palms on the counter, L stared at the hands that had brought so much death to the world simply by a single touch. Hands that were now useless to their purpose. Hands that could do nothing more than what those of human beings' could do.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself anymore.

After the elderly woman, L had been called to less than five other humans and the result had been the same each time.

They would lose their breath for a moment, as if they had someone squeezing their windpipe so tightly that they just couldn't breathe, but then L would pull away at the sound of their gasps.

And they all survived.

Just like Light was able to.

It terrified him – not knowing what was happening to him, or what he was even supposed to do anymore.

That was why he needed Light. He needed comfort. He needed someone to accept him when he had nowhere else but a cold and lonely cave to turn to.

* * *

It was half past five when Light finally turned a car into the driveway, and L stood at the front door nervously, peeking through the small window next to it. He held the curtain to the side with shaking fingers, his eyes drinking in the sight of Light's familiar body when he finally stepped out of the car.

His hair was blonder than L remembered it being, as if he'd gotten highlights recently. His skin was tanned to a seductive color, making his white shirt seem incredibly bright on his shoulders. His trousers were tight on his skinny legs, the black color of them contrasting almost drastically with that of his upper body.

His eyes, having not spotted L yet, were just as gorgeous as he remembered them being: dark brown, intense, and guarded.

L could only hope that he looked just as good to Light as the boy did to him, though he knew that wasn't possible. Where Light had gained a slight bit of muscle, L had thinned to a degree that it was almost enough to bring himself to worry if it was normal. His bones were practically visible beneath the thinness of his pale skin, and his wings were heavy and drooping behind him.

He was nothing like the mysterious creature that Light had first encountered. He was not strong or confident in his actions. Instead, he was a shell of his former self, ready to break down at any moment.

Light walked up to the front door while patting his pockets in search for something, the sound of his happy shout when he pulled out a key unknowingly pulling a smile from L for the first time in months.

Stepping away from the window, L held his breath as he listened to the key slide into the hole, turn, and then unlock. The door opened slowly and time seemed to freeze for that brief moment just before Light walked into the house. He tossed his keys and wallet into a small bowl that had been placed on top of a shelf next to a coat rack, stepping further into the room without once acknowledging L's presence.

He followed behind as Light made his way into the kitchen, watching with growing sadness as the human gave the stool a curious glance before pushing it back into its proper place.

_The pills_.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, L turned away. The sound of pans clanging together as Light prepared his supper echoing behind him as Death left the house for the last time.

His chest was nothing more than a hollow shell surrounding a shattered heart, and his wings felt as though they'd gone up in flame.

* * *

The warm sun shining through his opened windows woke L Lawliet before his alarm clock even went off, and he rolled onto his back with a tired groan. Sleep, lately, had become a distant thing for him, as the nights that he actually managed to get more than an hour of rest were filled with the strangest dreams.

Not worried about the most recent one, he rolled out of bed and padded over to his dresser to pull out the last change of clothes that were left.

It was the big day – the day that he was going to start anew.

The few things he owned were packed up into boxes and shoved as tightly as possible into the back of his car. All that was left was for him to shower, dress, and make the long drive to the small town that his friend Aizawa had told him about and toured with him nearly a month before.

With a large yawn, L shuffled into the bathroom, tossing his clean clothes onto the unusually clean counter. With a frown he turned his back to the mirror above the sink, hissing and reaching behind himself to touch the twin scars on his shoulder blades – something that he'd had since birth. They were normally no trouble to him, but every once in a while his skin felt as though it was burning and he had never understood why.

Shrugging the strange feeling off, he moved away from the mirror and turned on the shower, already naked. His friends had teased him many times about how he would fit right in with nudists, since he preferred to go without clothes more often than not. L never argued with them. He was strange, he knew, and not many people could handle his eccentricities. The ones that could, however, were worth holding on to.

Stepping into the warm spray, L smiled to himself, excited for what the future had in store.


	8. You're Dead Alive

**notes: **sad to say that this is the last chapter. I really do enjoy this fic and the world within, and I truly hope that you all found something you liked from it, too. Thank you very much for the lovely reviews. Please let me know what you think after this one :)

**eight**

"I can't believe you actually agreed to move here," Aizawa teased as he made his second trip up the stairs and into L's new flat. "I've always seen you as a city boy. This place is almost too small for you."

Chuckling, L set down the (embarrassingly light) box in his arms, so grateful to have Aizawa's help with the move. As much as he liked to pretend he was a tough guy, lugging boxes up a couple flights of stairs would have been hell for him on his own.

"There's just something about this place," L replied, holding his arms out in gesture to the town. "Don't you think? It's got a certain charm to it."

Shaking his head, Aizawa turned to close the front door, speaking over his shoulder. "I still think you're mental for moving here, but if it's what you want…"

"It is," L said with confidence. If anyone ever knew anything about something, it was L.

The town was more secluded and definitely smaller than he was used to, but there really was something about it that just drew in and held his attention. It felt as though something had wrapped itself around L's legs and pulled him right in, leaving him no choice but to stay there. If he had believed in a higher power, he might have even questioned if Fate had any play in his life.

"It'll suck having you so far away, too," Aizawa mumbled as he pressed the tip of his shoe against a box, sliding it across the wood floor.

Smiling, L placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, giving it an appreciative squeeze before changing the subject to something less emotional.

The day was spent unpacking. Aizawa kept the mood lighthearted by teasing L about certain things he found in the boxes ("_Really, L? Kissing 101?" "Piss off."_). Everyone knew L had quite a few eccentricities about him, and luckily their tight group of friends were comfortable enough to tease each other without offense. By late afternoon most of his things had been put in their new places, and L mentioned (complained) more than once how thankful he was that he didn't own very many things (still too many).

"All that's missing is food, then," Aizawa said as he fell back onto the small loveseat that he'd bought as a surprise gift and had delivered.

"I think there's only one grocery store in town," L shouted from the kitchen, finishing putting away a few pans before making his way into the living room. "You want to drive? I can get us something to eat, and maybe fill up the fridge."

Nodding, Aizawa pushed himself to his feet and led the way out.

* * *

L made his way to the cash register with a full basket, looking over his shoulder briefly for Aizawa before telling himself that his friend could handle himself.

Smiling at the girl behind the counter, he set his purchase onto the moving belt, reaching behind himself to pull his wallet out of his back pocket.

"I'm sorry," the girl said, giving him a strange look. "But… do I know you?" she asked, and L looked at her a little closer, though finding nothing familiar about her.

"Um," he started, trying to find the right words to keep the conversation from getting too awkward. "I really don't think so. I just moved into town yesterday, actually." He glanced at his still full basket, keeping the smile on his face though he was starting to get anxious. Ever since he could remember, L had never been too comfortable meeting new people. His throat would lock up sometimes, and Aizawa had stepped in to apologize for his sudden muteness more than once.

"Oh, well, I really don't then," the girl said, more so to herself than to L. With a shake of her head, she started to ring up L's items, her brow drawn together as she lost herself in her thoughts.

Waiting patiently for her to finish, L fiddled with his wallet – opening and slapping it closed over and over again. After nearly a minute, the girl glanced at his hands for a moment before gasping in shock.

Startled, his hands froze and the wallet fell to the floor, but the girl shouted at him to stand still when he moved to pick it up.

Doing as ordered, he watched worriedly as she bolted around the counter and snatched up his wallet, holding it open and staring at his license with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"You're-" she stopped, seeming to remember herself. With a dark blush, she handed the worn item back to him, apologizing continuously under her breath. "That's just, I'm sorry, but that's just… so unexpected."

Absolutely confused, L raised an eyebrow at her actions, wondering if it'd be too rude to ask what in the hell had just happened.

"L! I picked up some beer, hope you don't mind," Aizawa said as he came to L's side, setting the pack of beer on the counter with a smile. When he noticed L's attitude, however, he turned questioning eyes onto the girl who was still muttering to herself. "Something going on?" he asked quietly enough so that L was the only one that heard.

"Strange girl." He shook his head at the questioning look his friend gave him, turning his attention back to the girl when she finally got around to telling him how much he owed.

"I'm truly sorry about that." Her blush, if it was even possible, became even darker. She took L's money with an embarrassed smile. "It's just that some really weird things went on in this town a few years back, and you really reminded me of someone."

L looked at Aizawa in absolute bewilderment, having no idea what to say to that.

Taking control of the situation (fortunately), Aizawa gave the girl a charming smile. "Well," he glanced at her name tag, "Sarah, my friend just moved here, so if it's something bad, then there's nothing to worry about."

Sarah shook her head back and forth fast enough to whip her ponytail, and L couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever met anyone so obviously crazy in his entire life.

"No, it's not bad, really." She cringed as if she knew she was telling a lie. "Just strange."

Interested, Aizawa pressed her for more information, and after having him promise that he wouldn't say he'd heard it from her, she explained a little more.

"There's this man that lives here – Light." She looked over her shoulders quickly, acting most suspicious. "He moved into town seven years ago with his father. Rumor had it that he'd just been released from a mental hospital, and that his dad was trying to settle down in a place that wouldn't trigger any memories of… whatever he was trying to get away from. Mr. Yagami died just over a year later, and Light had a miraculous turn around in his recovery."

L listened with rapt attention. His stomach tingled in the most pleasant way at the mention of Light's name; though, strangely enough, his heart felt a bit heavy at the same time.

"You'll probably meet him," Sarah said, biting her bottom lip as she gave L another glance. "This town is so small that it's hard not to run into everyone at least once. It's one of those _everybody knows what everybody else is doing_ types of places."

_Obviously,_ L thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn't sure why, but he was desperate to know more about the supposed 'crazy' man.

"I'm sure he can't be that bad," Aizawa said, always the kind one.

Sarah gave him a look that clearly told her opinion on the matter. "I heard that he suffered from hallucinations, and not a safe kind."

L swallowed heavily, losing the pleasant feeling in his stomach completely at that. He didn't understand his reactions in the slightest. All he knew at that moment was that he _had_ to know everything.

_Where is Light?_

"If I were you," Sarah said, addressing L fully. "I would stay away from him. Something tells me that you two meeting would be a very bad thing."

Aizawa laughed, throwing an arm around L's shoulders in a way that he'd come to know as comfort. His friend knew that Sarah's quick judgment of him would hurt him, and he was quick to pull L out of his thoughts. "L here is a really nice guy. I can't imagine anyone _not_ getting along with him."

Sarah shrugged, looking very skeptical. "You don't know Light, though," she argued, sounding so sincere that Aizawa's friendly laughter was forced to a halt.

"Should I be worried for L here, or is he going to be alright?" he asked, a slight threat to his tone.

"It's just… let me explain something, and then you can decide. It was rumored that Light saw an angel – black wings, pale skin, dark hair, and black eyes." She stared pointedly at L until both of the men caught on.

"Does look a bit like you," Aizawa said, taking a step back as if to get a better view.

"But that's not it, either," Sarah insisted, the pitch of her voice increasing with her excitement. "Light's father mentioned once that his son called the angel L."

* * *

"You holding up alright?"

Turning to face his friend, L shrugged, not knowing what the honest answer was. The fact that some guy in town had been having hallucinations of some angel that looked eerily like L himself was a bit unsettling.

Even more unsettling were the butterflies that had yet to leave his stomach since he'd first heard Sarah say Light's name. He couldn't explain it – he was too nervous to think too much about it, telling himself over and over that his dreams were just a coincidence – but he felt as though the next thing he should have been doing was go out on the town in search of Light.

More than once L had to grip the edge of the car seat to keep himself from jumping right out of the door.

"It's just a shock," he replied finally, resting his elbow on the window ledge and watching as the town slowly passed by.

"I won't lie; it all just makes me really curious to find out more."

L turned to Aizawa once more, a wide smile on his face. "Feel like taking a walk through town, then?"

Aizawa nodded, slowing the car down and pulling into a parking space just outside of a small convenience store. "Best see just how ridiculous this place's gossip mill is."

Turned out that the town was exactly what you'd expect for its small size. It seemed as though everyone truly knew everything there was to know about _everyone_ who had _ever_ stepped foot across the city line. The odd thing, however, was how tight lipped they all were when Aizawa finally asked outright what they knew of a certain Light Yagami.

"It's so sad what happened to that man. His father died when he was just twenty and fresh out of the hospital."

"He's been doing really well lately. I wish him the best."

"Nice man with a rough history. He's getting back on his feet, though. He'll make it."

It was absolutely _infuriating_.

"You know where he's living, then?" Aizawa would ask, and L watched over and over as whoever they were talking to glanced at him before shaking their heads.

"It'd probably be best that you leave him alone. Like I said, he's been doing so well lately; it'd be a tragedy to see him have a relapse or something."

It was as if everything was conspiring against him meeting the man, even though every inch of his own body was desperate to see him.

"I don't get it," L said as they made their way back to Aizawa's car after a short stop for lunch. "They all say that this town is small enough that I will eventually run into him, but they won't let me find him on my own?"

Aizawa shrugged, getting into the car with a frown. "Good point, but it's obvious we won't be able to change their minds."

L took a deep breath as he got into the car, closing the door harder than necessary.

Aizawa eyed him curiously. "Is it really that big of a deal to you to meet him?"

"Yes," L answered without thought, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting towards the window. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you what was going through my head right now."

Rolling his eyes, Aizawa started the car and drove out of the parking lot. "I think I've been a pretty understanding friend the entire time that we've known each other."

L bit his bottom lip in thought, turning to his friend with his brows drawn together. "Five years," he said, sighing when Aizawa only gave him a confused look. "We've known each other for five years."

"So?"

"Maybe it's just me thinking too much. Yeah, it's stupid." He sighed and turned away again, wondering where the idea had even come from.

"Come on, mate. It can't be that bad," Aizawa urged.

L stayed quiet until they had turned onto his street, hoping Aizawa wouldn't admit _him_ to the hospital after hearing what he was thinking. "Sarah said that Light had a miraculous recovery after his dad died, which would have been a little more than five years ago, since he's been here for seven." At Aizawa's nod, he continued. "I was in the hospital five years ago, got hit on the head, remember?" Another nod. "And I've been having these really weird dreams lately, and they… you're going to think I'm mad, but they are the same exact thing that Light was, I don't know… _seeing_."

Noticing the look Aizawa was giving him, L wished he had just stayed quiet.

"You're having dreams of what? That you're an angel?" He laughed, and L could tell that Aizawa thought it was all just a joke. As the seconds passed, however, and L didn't disagree, the smile slowly faded from Aizawa's face and he looked at him in surprise. "You're serious?"

L nodded. "Very."

Looking away, Aizawa drove in silence, parking his car outside of L's flat and climbing out. L followed, unlocking the front door and leading the way up the stairs before unlocking the door to his place. The food that they'd dropped off earlier was still on the counter, so L busied himself by putting it away, glancing over his shoulder at Aizawa every once in a while.

Groceries put away, L grabbed a couple beers from the fridge and took a seat next to his still quiet friend, handing over the cool beverage with a nervous smile.

"Look," he said, getting Aizawa's attention. "Just forget I said anything, yeah? It was just a stupid thing anyways. Just a coincidence."

Aizawa shook his head, and L worried for a moment that his friend really did think he'd lost his mind. "I've seen you naked enough times to know you have weird scars on your back."

Swallowing heavily, L opened his beer and took a drink, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"Sorry," Aizawa said, running a hand over his head with a sigh. "They aren't _weird, _per se. It's just strange that you have these dreams, have a strange urge to move to a city that _really_ doesn't fit you, hear about some man that had hallucinations about you with wings… and you have those scars that… Shit, I sound insane."

L chuckled, shaking his head. "You and me both. This doesn't make any sense."

"No, it doesn't," Aizawa agreed, opening his own beer with a sigh. "I wouldn't go around talking about it too much, though. This town would eat you up if they knew."

L nodded, fingering the edge of his beer with a frown. "Do you think I made a bad choice moving here?"

"I think, once everything gets settled, you'll like it."

* * *

The following morning, L woke up to complete silence. Aizawa had left late the night before, having promised his wife Kelly that he wouldn't be gone for more than a day.

Trying to keep himself entertained, L organized his things a bit more around the flat, making note of anything that he would need to buy before the day was out. All in all, he thought he did a good job distracting himself from what he _really_ wanted to do – find Light.

Without Aizawa there to keep his attention, L's thoughts drifted often to the crazy man, and more than once he brought himself back to reality only to find that he was already halfway down the stairs with his car keys in hand. Every time that happened, L shook his head and turned back around, the people's suggestions of staying away from Light still echoing in the back of his mind.

At noon, tired of cleaning and moving things around, L popped a movie into the DVD player and curled up on the small sofa, fully intending to sleep away the rest of the afternoon.

Fate had other plans for him, however, and he was just starting to realize how much of his life he really didn't control – one aspect of it being Light.

Considering, for a moment, the very farfetched idea that he somehow had been an angel six years earlier, L shuddered at the thought of his dreams actually being his memories.

If that were true, then his hands were the cause of thousands upon thousands of deaths – two of them being people that were dear to Light.

His heart skipped a beat at that, different images coming to his mind as he mulled over what Light truly held close to his heart.

The brunet boy in his dreams, Light – how could he not have made the connection sooner?

Light brown hair, dark eyes, tanned skin, and a skinny body. Absolutely stunning.

He _loved him_. Completely.

He wanted to be with him. He had wanted to be with him in a way that angels couldn't be… and now…

Blinking up at his ceiling, L tried to catch his breath, thinking of… no, _remembering_ where Light's father had moved them to. Remembering the old chair that Mr. Yagami had died in, remembering the horrified look on Light's face when all the pieces had slid into place.

Remembering the roads that would lead him straight to Light's door.

L was on his feet in an instant, heart pounding furiously in his chest as he snatched up his keys and bolted for the door. He took the stairs two at a time, nearly falling flat on his face in his clumsy haste, catching his balance just at the last minute, and sprinting out of the building with burning lungs.

His hands were shaking so badly that he struggled to put the key in the ignition, letting out a shout of frustration before he finally held still long enough for it to slide in.

He drove blindly, having only his dreams and memories to guide him in the right direction.

Light…

_His_ Light.

How could he have ever forgotten?

* * *

The house was just as he'd pictured it, and as he walked up to the front door, it felt as though he'd gone back to whatever being he was before – as though he hadn't been given a human life at all.

"Please be here, please, _please, be here_," he whispered over and over, rapping his knuckles against the front door, shifting his weight from foot to foot in excited anticipation.

What would Light do? Would he recognize him after all those years? Would he welcome him in with a warm smile and an intoxicating kiss?

Or would he panic? Would he slam the door shut in L's face after only a single glance? Would he refuse to let L back into his life after everything that they'd been through?

"_Please_," he whispered again, leaning his forehead against the door and raising his arms above his head, tapping his fingers on the wood in a continuous plea for attention. His eyes clenched shut, bright spots dancing through the blankness before him.

At the sound of shuffling inside the house, L's head shot back, his eyes wide as he started knocking frantically. He didn't care if Light thought he was some insane freak trying to break in, just as long as he was able to see him, only for a moment.

"Light, please, it's me! It's L! Please, open up, _please_."

The shuffling stopped immediately, frozen by L's words.

"It's me," he repeated, his voice calming as he stepped close to the door once more, brushing his hands against the wood as if it was Light himself standing before him. "Please, Light. Let me in."

He held his breath, listening closely for any sounds from within the house, anything that would give Light away.

"Please." A deep breath. "I love you."

Words that he should have said so many years before.

"I love you. Please, Light."

The click of the lock being turned made L jump back, his eyes staring wide and shocked as the door was eased open.

Six entire years.

Light still looked as perfect as ever.

He only opened the door enough for him to look out at L, and from what he could see, Light hadn't really changed much in the last few years. The scar on his neck had faded a bit, and his clothes seemed to have gotten even tighter over L's absence.

Perfect.

"L?" Light whispered, not believing his eyes. "You're…" He pulled the door open wider, glancing up and down L's body, drinking him in.

L stared right back, blinking a few times just to make sure that his own eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

Still perfect.

He moved closer, watching for any sign of protest from Light but the man didn't move. Light's eyes followed him, his hands twitching at his sides as if they wanted to reach out. L wished he would let them.

He stopped only when he was close enough to feel the heat from Light's body, to feel his breath flutter across his lips and cheeks.

"Human," Light whispered, finally – _finally_ – reaching out, holding L's head in his hands, pulling their foreheads together.

Closing his eyes, L smiled, pressing his hands against Light's as he tilted his lips closer. "Yours," he breathed, his lips brushing against Light's softly.

Light let out a laugh, letting his arms slide around L's shoulders and pressing their mouths tightly together.

"Finally," he said, eyes shining with tears – happiness and relief.

Love.

L's smile grew as they kissed again.

**Epilogue**

With a groan, L shuffled his feet through the produce section of the grocery store, wanting nothing more than to flop down on the floor to rest his aching feet.

Not only did Light insist on dragging him around town simply to show him off, he'd insisted on doing it the day after they'd gotten very, _very_ well acquainted with each other's bodies.

L was sure his arse would be sore for weeks after the way Light had pounded into him the night before… and after a few hours of sleep… and after they'd finally managed to make it to the shower.

Groaning again (though for a completely different reason) L waltzed up to the cash registers and gave Sarah a small wave… even though he really wanted to give her something else. Light had made him promise that he'd behave, however, not wanting people to spread any vicious rumors about them so soon.

L took pleasure in Sarah's shocked face when she'd first realized that he actually _was_ Light's angel – that he hadn't been crazy after all. She may not have known that he had been Death, once upon a time, but that didn't really matter to him.

It had taken him awhile to understand what he'd gone through, but he finally did.

He'd given up his purpose, given up the only existence that he knew how to live, just to be at Light's side.

Death didn't have any regrets.

And neither did L.

Not a single one.


End file.
